


Of Royal Forge

by jackabee



Series: Forgestuck [1]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Action/Adventure, Altered Mental States, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Ambiguous Quadrant Kanoodling, Aspect means Magic, Character Death, Children as the playthings of Gods, Duelling, Emotional Manipulation, F/M, Human/Troll Relationship, It's hard being nobility and nobody understands, Meowrails, Most everybody gets a bit of time in the spotlight, Onesided Homosexual Affections, Political Clusterfuck, Reincarnation, Romance, Time Shenanigans, Undercover Princess, War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-29
Updated: 2013-10-02
Packaged: 2017-12-06 22:19:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 26
Words: 140,993
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/740780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jackabee/pseuds/jackabee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Saving a kingdom was the job of gallant heralds and magnificent princes, not maids whose lives revolved around the scullery. But the heralds cannot save you for they cannot see the peril, and the princes will try to stop you for they are deaf to the truth. So in the end, it must be you. After all, you too were born to rule.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Flight

_Of royal forge their hearts were fired_

_Hearts of silver, hearts of gold_

_Desolation’s bells have tolled_

_Our weary armies have retired_

_To crypt and tomb, for war is done_

_But peace shan’t rise on wing of dove_

_Until again two kingdoms love_

_‘Tween sunlit daughter and moonlit son_

~*~

If ever she could catch a moment to herself, Jane would close her eyes and think back as far as her memory could reach. There, the world towered around her with glimmering parapets and golden ceilings, and a soft, pretty hand enveloped hers. Before that, there was nothing, and after that, Jane could not remember the touch of that hand on hers. After the land of gold there was the cozy villa of Crocker Hall, and the few who had decided to take residence in it. There was her cousin, Jake, who even then had been a silly and excitable sort, a defender against the imaginary perils of childhood. There had been Roxy – sweet, wonderful Roxy – who had seemed to spring out of the void of foggy childhood memories and boisterously take up as much space in them as she could. And then, lastly, there had been the Madame who watched over them. She was a good Madame, and while many who had never seen the likes of her before balked at her appearance, Jane never saw anything but beauty in her face. A Cherub, after all, was nothing to fear so long as they were mild-tempered. The Madame took care of their every want and need, teaching the children their letters and rhymes, and in the evenings, she would whisper promises of a bright future into Jane’s ears.

“You are a princess,” She would say, rubbing her knuckles gently along Jane’s back, “And someday you shall fall in love with a prince in an amethyst tower! And he will love you back with all he has. You two will ride into the kingdom of gold and turn it pink like pearls from the sea!” Jane would giggle and imagine this prince in his tower, and how every step they took changed the world from dark and sad to happy and bright. She hoped that he would like Jake and Roxy, and that he would make a good playmate in Crocker Hall. But these dreams were young, and she had never seen anything truly dark and sad – not, at least, until she turned eight years old. That was when the Lord came calling.

The Madame had warned the children of the Lord. He was the Cherub folks knew to fear, the one whose grin was more grimace than sincere. Still, he held himself high and noble as he discussed matters with the Madame, their tones hushed and guttural. Roxy had disappeared, so Jane had hidden from him with Jake, but in time he came to see the children.

“I like these two,” He told the Madame, “There is a fire in them. That I rarely get to see in such small humans. Let me take them to Derse.” Jane hated how stilted his speech was, and she frowned up at him in the hopes that he would change his mind. But it was no use; by sunset he had made a mess of Jane’s room, packing away her plainest frocks and the bare essentials needed for the trip. She remembered hurrying to the Madame’s quarters as fast as her little legs could carry her, and how the Madame scooped her up in her great arms and held her tightly.

“Ssh, little one,” She had said so long ago, “Ssh. I cannot deny him, or he would suspect the truth, and for that he would kill you.”

“Why?” Jane had asked, her throat choked from crying. That was when the Madame took her in her lap for the last time.

“Because you are the princess who will save his prince,” She said, “And he guards the prince very closely. He does not want him to fall in love. He wants everything to be bleak and terribly unhappy. But so long as you live, you can stop him one day.” In a flash of lime light, a beautiful pendant appeared in her hand, and she hung it around Jane’s neck. “This pendant is yours. It will help you, one day, to find your way back to me, and to save the prince, but you must not let the Lord know it is yours! Do you understand?”

It was the most solemn and serious moment of Jane’s young life. When night again lifted with the dawn, the Lord stuffed Jane and Jake into his carriage, and it rolled away, leaving behind Crocker Hall and all that Jane had ever known.

~*~

Back straight. Head lowered. Bend at the knees but keep your balance. Don’t crumple the skirt in your fist, but hold it delicately by your fingertips, and…

“Oh!”

Jane pitched forward, her skirt falling as her arms flailed for balance. Her only book toppled off of her head, and it hit the floor with a smack, opening to a recipe for a legume stew that she particularly detested. Instead of wrinkling her nose at the memory of its taste, Jane let out a tired sigh, and her arms hung at her sides. Her reflection copied, and she wondered if she could ever make a proper queen someday. She wondered it often when she was alone. The only queens she had ever seen were the paintings of those of Derse, and they were all fair and waifish, with dark lips and gemlike eyes.

That was not like Jane at all. She was small, and her hair was like a black briar patch, tangled and painful to handle. Her eyes were more like pools than jewels, but they had terrible sight and were nearly always squinted so she could make out things far away. As for the rest, she was healthy looking at least, but given how gaunt Dersite women tended to be, she stuck out like a tomato in a patch of carrots. She had no grace and little presence, which was fitting enough for a Maid, but a future queen she would never make if she stayed here forever.

Here, of course, was the Dersite House of Lords. It was a grand old house, spacious and luxurious with green velvet on every surface. Thankfully the stuff never reached Jane’s tiny room, but it would have been nice to have a blanket of it in the winter, when her only window froze in its sill and every crack leaked when the meager warmth of a fire thawed it out. Every day she worked to keep that house spotless and its master pleased, for these duties were all she had these eight long years, and it was in little moments like this where she could pretend they did not exist.

Hesitantly, Jane pulled out a chain from underneath her clothes. On the end hung a heavy pendant of amber, surrounded by finely curled gold and still warmed from her chest. The surface was inlaid with a golden curling ‘P’, and Jane ran her thumb lightly across its surface. This was all the proof she had of her childhood, and that the things she was once told were actually true – that she was a princess, and one day she would find her prince! It sounded like something out of a silly fairy tale for children, but at the same time, it was a precious secret, and Jane guarded it with all she had. A smile returning to her lips, she left her book on the floor and sat on her threadbare bed to look at it some more.

Her quiet reverie was shattered by the soft jingling of a bell. Jane stiffened, and her hand clutched the pendant tightly. Every time she heard that bell, she felt her stomach twist into knots. It could only come from one place, and when it sounded, she was needed. Slipping the pendant back in its place, Jane rose and shook out her skirt. It wouldn’t do to look rumpled, after all.

Her quarters consisted of a hastily-erected room in the corner of the house’s cellar, and upon leaving it she made her way around various barrels of stock to the ladder leading up into the kitchen. On a peg by its rungs hung a white ruffled cap, and she grabbed it and tucked as much of her unruly hair into it as she could before she began the climb. Soon, her head popped into the kitchen, still lingering with warmth from when she made breakfast this morning. It had been sweet rolls today, made with cinnamon and apples – not that she had gotten any. Maids did not get fine things to eat unless they paid for them out of their own pockets. Besides, Jane did not care for apples.

The bell rung again, more forcefully than the last time, so Jane quickened her pace. Out of the kitchen and through numerous corridors she hurried, until she came to the drawing room, nestled in a back corner of the house. There, amidst velvet couches, sat not the Lord, as Jane expected, but his current consort. She had managed to curry the favor of the Lord for three years now, which was quite impressive considering how fickle and impatient he was with women. This Lady was one of the many trolls who lived in Derse, slim and grey with her black hair twisted into a bun. Her horns, large and spiraled, sat atop her head as if they were not a great weight, and her eyes flickered to Jane and narrowed slightly. They were unlike the eyes of any troll she had seen before, for they were like a dog’s eyes when they looked straight at you, and the light hit them. She had stretched out on a lounging couch, still in her nightgown, with a long black pipe hanging from her lips, the shaft engraved with foreign symbols Jane could not read. This was Lady Damara.

“Maid is _late_ ,” She said, and her cheeks puffed out for a moment as a smoke ring issued forth from the pipe. Her Common Speech was always a bit shaky, but today she was relatively coherent. Jane’s hands tightened into fists at her side, catching her skirt.

“I came as soon as I heard the bell, M’Lady,” She said, and she bended quickly at the knee instead of her usual curtsy. “What can I do for you?”

Damara slowly removed the pipe from her mouth, her claws clicking against the metal spout. “Late is late,” She said, and leaned to the side, where an end table with an ash tray had been placed. As she tapped the ashes from her pipe, she said, “Go to Market and buy tuna for supper. Get the biggest tuna.”

“Yes, M’Lady.” She eyed Damara’s pipe. “Do you need another tin of tobacco, too? Or the incense for your room?” It was nasty stuff too, Damara’s incense, but thankfully her head shook.

“Only tuna,” She said, and when her pipe was back in her mouth she dismissed the maid with a wave of her hand. Jane was all too happy to comply, and with haste she made her way through the house again. Winter was ending, but there was still a chill to the air, so Jane had taken a woolen wrap for warmth before she set out for the market. It waited for all on the main road before the Palace of Derse, and the House of Lords was nearby, so Jane took her time as she walked. This part of the city was fine and well kept, for all who lived here were at least somewhat well off.

She heard the market before it came into sight. At this hour especially, when noon still had yet to come, it was packed with mothers and Maids shopping for meals. Students were beginning to flood the streets to look for a vendor to sell them their lunches, and a few diurnal trolls were about as well. Trolls mostly kept to the night, so to see them functioning so well in the daytime was always a surprise, especially when Jane thought of how languid Damara could be. As she browsed the stands for tuna, she chanced a glance up at the Palace of Derse. It was certainly grand, with its four violet turrets, embellished with silver that gleamed even in the light of an overcast day. In fact, gloomy weather seemed to suit it, for there was a cryptic air about the palace that rattled the hearts of all who gazed upon it.

It was in that palace, Jane knew, that Jake had been taken. He had become a Page, after all, his training sponsored and overseen by their Lord. She rarely ever got to see him, and she missed him terribly. Every time they met again, he had grown taller and stronger and more confident. While she was proud of Jake, and could see that his time in the palace had only benefited him, she wondered if he thought about her at all, in her little chamber in the House of Lords. When they had first arrived, small and shivering, and they had first heard of his new assignment, Jake had held her hands tightly and promised everything he could think to promise.

“I’ll come down from the towers myself to save you if you ever need me,” He had whispered in one of the forgotten corners of the house. He had been brave, but she had been crying, and even at eight years old, he wiped her tears away like a proper gentleman would. “And I’ll tell the prince how wonderful you are so he’ll marry you straightaway! Then we can go home to Roxy and the Madame – we can do whatever we desire! So don’t be sad, please, Jane!”

But that had been long ago, and they hadn’t spoken of it since. It hurt to think of it, and Jane tore her glance from the palace. There was still a glimmer of hope in her that Jake would be able to help somehow. Even if all he could do was gain his own title and take her in from their Lord, it would be enough, but without any way to talk to him, she didn’t know if he had a plan, or what to do with herself.

When she finally found a suitable tuna, she paid for it with the Lord’s credit, for she had permission to do so, and she brought it home to prepare for the night. When she passed by the drawing room, she found it empty save for the lingering smell of smoke and a long-cold pipe.

~*~

There were many things about the people she knew that Jane did not know. Jake, for example, had not forgotten her. He could never live with himself if he forgot his dear cousin! Every day he thought of her and racked his brain for a way to get her out of the Lord’s house, and every day he chased the same possibilities around in his head. In the morning over breakfast, he thought of earning a Lordly title, and wresting the Lord’s control over Jane himself. It was the easiest route, at least for a while. The Lord was a Cherub, and no one opposed them, for Cherubs were the ones who made the world. It was like flying in the face of a God and spitting in his face, it was just not done. Even Jake was not foolhardy enough to try it. In the afternoon, while he trained with the other Pages, he thought about running away with her, but he doubted he would get far. Even for an accomplished fighter, a passage through the Scratchlands would be nigh impossible, and he wouldn’t know how to get through to the kingdom beyond.

But in the evenings, when he took council from the knights and lords, and the two Princes of Derse observed, he thought of admitting everything to them, or at least to the one who made every final decision. Sure, these councils talked of war, but would their hearts not melt at Jane’s plight? Would the magic of love not sway them? The Madame had held this virtue above all others, so Jake always assumed it had the greatest power, dwarfing Cherubs or Kings with its strength. He would sit and steal glances at the princes, as if he could let them know of his turmoil that way. When it came time to sleep, however, Jake would beat these ideas down and refuse them. They were all too risky, and he was afraid. He knew that if he did one thing wrong, just one, it would spell disaster not only for himself, but for Jane. He still remembered their rightful home – the glorious and peaceful Prospit. He remembered his parents. He remembered writing to them in Crocker Hall, not knowing and not caring why he was there, and then slowly, how he learned of Jane’s place, and of his. There was so much he remembered.

On the very same chilly day that Jane went out to purchase tuna in the market, someone called for Jake as he practiced in the training grounds. A message had been delivered, and as he read it, his eyes widened. His presence was requested for an audience with the Knight of the Royal Company! He was Derse’s second prince, and for him to even acknowledge anyone was, to Jake’s understanding, a big freaking deal. He could barely contain his glee as he was led to a chamber. It was one where the younger Pages took their lessons, for there were rows upon rows of benches where they would sit and listen to the Pagemasters’ lectures. Jake would have thought back to his own schoolboy days, had the figure at the end of the room not caught his attention.

It was the Knight who waited for him, slouched against the front board like a fellow waiting for his chums. He was remarkably fair, and remarkably young for a Company leader. Even Jake was older than him! He had been staring at Jake the moment he entered, although it was difficult to tell. He wore the most peculiar round spectacles fitted with dark lenses, and no one could tell where he looked. He also had a marvelous poker face, and it was always so difficult to tell how he felt. Still, the sightless stare made Jake halt, and he watched as the Knight righted himself. He was slow and fluid in his movements, and soon, he stood before Jake, appraising the Page with his eyes.

After a long silence, the Knight held his hand out. “’Sup.”

“Uh…” Was it alright to just shake his hand? Jake didn’t know, but he reached out and did so. “Salutations to you too, Your Highness!”

“Yeah, don’t worry about any titles. Keep it simple. Call me Dave.” The side of his mouth quirked up slightly. Jake could feel the tension in his shoulders fall away when he saw it, for any kind of expression was better than cold indifference. “You can definitely call me Sir Dave though. Still haven’t found a situation where it is not awesome to be called Sir Dave yet.” He jerked his head to one of the benches. “Now what do you say we talk a bit, English? You _are_ Jake English, right? Mister big-shot Page English? I’ve got the right dude?”

Jake nodded, and he tried not to grimace at that name. English wasn’t _his_ name. It was the Lord’s. He had to take it when he came here, because even he knew his identity would draw attention. Surely even Derse’s royalty had heard of the Prospitian Duchy of Harley.

Dave seemed satisfied with his answer, and they sat on the front bench, backs turned towards the front board. Jake couldn’t take his eyes off of him.

“So, erm, what is this all about, Sir Dave? I would think you would know more than anybody  not to pull a Page from his training!”

“Whoa now, hold your horses. We’ll get down to business.” He reached into his shirt, and Jake felt his eyebrows shoot up as he watched the Knight pull out some rumpled sheets of paper. “Relax, you’re with me. We got all the time in the world. Can’t a guy get to know another guy before he makes decisions concerning said other guy? Sheesh.”

As quickly as his eyebrows had shot up, they furrowed. “Decisions? Is there something wrong?”

Dave shook his head. “Not a thing. Relax, English, everything’s hunky dory, or whatever.” When Jake’s face did not soften, he sighed. “Alright. You wanna get down to brass tacks? We will get down to brass tacks. We will get so far down we’ll pass the brass tacks on our way to the center of the earth. That down enough for you?”

“Um. Sure?” What could he even say to that?

“Alright. Cool.” Dave shuffled through the papers, the writing on them nigh illegible to Jake’s eye. “So here’s the deal. My Bro – you know, the all-important head of state, the grand poobah of princely pantaloons – he’s been hearing a lot of things about you. The Pagemasters fucking love you, man, I mean look at these reports.” He shoved them in Jake’s face. He couldn’t make heads or tails of them. “Technically you’re not even supposed to know the Pagemasters keep reports on you. But they do, and Bro’s looked them over, and he thinks you’ve got mad potential. He wants you bumped up through the pecking order.”

Jake’s head swam, but he managed to latch onto the last bit. “I’m…getting a promotion?” He ventured. “Golly! Well color me surprised!”

“Don’t get too excited, English.” Dave reached into his shirt again, and this time, he pulled out a thin vial filled with a clear liquid. “You’ve gotta answer some questions before I whip out the paperwork. Drink this first, though.” Jake took it, and held it up to the light.

“What is it?” He asked, but there was nothing too strange about it. For all he knew, it could be water. With a shrug, Jake popped the cork and downed the contents of the vial in one swig. It was impossibly cold in his throat, and it made his lips tingle.

“That? Oh, you know. Nothing special. Just thought you might be thirsty.” There was that smirk again. “You ready to answer my questions?”

“I suppose.” Something was strange about all this, but Jake could not put his finger on it. The trail the liquid took down his throat still felt ice cold. That couldn’t be normal.

“Good. Alright, first question. You’re officially a ward of Lord “I can’t talk correctly so I’m just going to call you a piss-ant” English, right?”

“I am,” Jake said.

“You ever swear your loyalty to him or something? Like get down on one knee and pledge your soul to his creepy Cherubim time magic?”

“No,” Jake said. The answer came quickly – too quickly for Jake’s liking. Dave looked pleased.

“Alright, awesome. One more thing and you’re in the clear, okay? Don’t get nervous.” It was too late for him to say that. “Are you in any way affiliated with Prospit?”

Jake should have balked. He should have been offended, or at least pretend to be. He should have been able to lie, and assure Dave that he had no ties to Prospit whatsoever. But when he tried, the words wouldn’t come out, and his face wouldn’t express what he wanted it to. It felt as if the cold liquid had hooked onto the secrets he kept inside, and was trying to tug them to the surface. He sputtered and willed them down with everything he had.

Dave raised an eyebrow. “Come on, man. This shouldn’t be hard, unless you’re fighting it.” When Jake started to cough, his façade broke. From what little of his face could be seen, it would be obvious to anyone that Dave was in shock. “Shit. You’re fighting it, aren’t you? Okay, look, Jake? What I made you drink? It was truth serum. Grade A stuff, I had to bribe somebody to cook it up for me. You will hurt yourself trying to fight it. Whatever you’ve got to say, keeping it hidden isn’t worth the trouble.”

“It’s worth everything!” Jake exclaimed, and the tugging feeling lessened. An idea struck him then. If he talked, and was careful about what he said, perhaps he could avoid getting hurt and revealing too much! At the very least, it would be best not to say a thing about Jane. Even if it landed him in hot water, she had to be safe. After taking a breath, he said, “I. I am very important in Prospit.”

The shock from before had faded, and Dave’s stoicism seemed harder and colder than before. “State your name and rank.”

“Peer of the realm,” Jake said through gritted teeth, “Jake, Duke of Harley. Keeper of the Princess of Prospit.” It was getting harder to fight the feeling. He nearly bit his tongue in an effort to keep silent.

“Gimme her name,” Dave said, and Jake could feel it sing in his chest, _Jane, Jane, Jane,_ but he could not give him the satisfaction! He refused to! He-

“What the hell,” Dave said as he looked over Jake’s shoulder, and before he could turn to see what was there, Jake felt something hard collide with his temple. He was unconscious before he hit the floor.

~*~

A quiet day with little interruption was something Jane almost never got, and she relished it even as she worked. The tuna had been cut and cleaned and seasoned, and it baked in the oven with a medley of vegetables as she bustled about the kitchen. There was rice and bread to make, after all, and fingerfoods of all sorts, and sweets that made even the best children skip supper for dessert. It was nothing short of a feast, and while it was exhausting to make, the kitchen was where Jane felt best in the whole house. Cooking hadn’t come easily to Jane, but when one serves a Lord, one must put their all into presentation, and to present her own culinary masterpieces was a point of pride for her.

Jane spent most of the afternoon like this, perfecting all she could, and so engrossed was she that the sound of the bell ringing for her went unheard. Three times it rang, and she still did not hear it. It was only when she had removed the tuna from the oven that her concentration was broken, but not by a bell. No, it was a heavy set of footsteps that caught her attention. Her eyes turned to the doorway, and she stood quite still until a figure appeared. At first she could not tell who he was, for he was at least a few inches taller than when she last saw him, and his skin another shade darker from training in the sun. But it couldn’t _not_ be him! The messy mop of black hair was the same, and the green eyes behind a set of spectacles were the same, so it had to be-

“Jake!” Jane thankfully had enough sense to put the tuna down, or she would have dropped it right then and there. She crossed the kitchen and embraced him tightly. “You didn’t send any notice about coming back!” She would have continued, but she noticed that Jake did not laugh and squeeze her tightly like he usually did; when she looked at him, his eyes were unfocused, and at that moment his knees buckled. Jake pitched forward in her arms, and Jane tightened her hold on him to keep him from falling. Slowly, she struggled to set him down on the ground, and propped his back against the doorway. Up close, he was pale, and his skin was cool to the touch.

“Are you alright? Jake, what’s wrong?” His eyes flickered to her, and he tried to speak, his words half nonsense and half stuck in his throat. Jane began to shiver in fear, as if she were trying to sleep in the middle of a snowy night, and all she had to protect herself was an old and threadbare sheet. But she could not let her fear win. She choked it down and, after making sure he wouldn’t topple over, fetched a glass of water for Jake. She helped him drink it, tipping liquid slowly into his mouth, and waited. In time, his babbling ceased, and his eyes began to refocus. When she pressed the glass in his hand, he took it, and once he had drained it of its contents, he looked at her in bewilderment.

“Oh.” There was a blush to his cheeks, and he reached up to fiddle with his glasses. “I’m sorry about that, Miss Jane. I didn’t see you there.” He handed the glass back to her, and she took it hesitantly. “Thank you for that! I was parched.”

“You also nearly fainted on top of me! Jake, what is going on with you?” Jake drew back at her tone, something he had never done before with anyone, not even if they were blazing mad at him.

“Now, Miss Jane,” He said warily, and stood up, “I like you well enough, and I appreciate your help, but being so familiar is unbecoming of you! Landsakes alive, it’s not very genteel at all!”

What was he going on about? Jane pressed the heel of her hand to her temple. “If this is your idea of a joke, it is the worst one I have ever heard,” She said, “Now cut it out and tell me how you’ve been! I’ve missed you every single day you’ve been gone, you big goof!”

“I can assure you that this is no joke, Miss Jane!” Jake said, and his eyes narrowed. “And what are you implying?”

“I’m implying diddly-squat!” Jane exclaimed. She could not remember when she had last raised her voice, or if she ever had at all. “Aren’t cousins are allowed to miss each other?”

“Since when were we _cousins_?!?”

The kitchen went silent, but Jake’s words echoed in Jane’s ears. She stared at him. Whoever this was – it couldn’t really be Jake, could it? Even he wouldn’t go that far if he just wanted to fool around with her.

“I just wanted to tell you something,” Jake continued, oblivious to her confusion, “I’ve been telling everyone I know.” His face brightened. “I’m going to war! Or, well, I’ll be part of a war. Looks like good old Derse has been slighted, and there will be hell to pay. I’ll be right there on the front lines with the Company of the Head Knight! He told me so himself!” He laughed. “Isn’t that amazing, Miss Jane? I’m finally good enough to join the war march! What more could a Page ask for?”

Jane was speechless. She looked down to the glass in her hand, and with a funny, manic sort of calm, wondered why she hadn’t dropped it out of shock yet. That’s what Jake wanted, right? He wanted her to drop the glass. Then he would sweep her up in a hug and apologize for his terrible joke and assure her that he wasn’t going to war at all.

“Ah, well, I’ve kept you long enough! I’m sure you’re very busy.” He nodded once, and backed out through the doorway. “Sorry to say I can’t stay for supper! The Lord insisted I go celebrate when I told him, so I shall! Goodnight, Miss Jane!” And with that, he was gone.

Jane stared at the empty doorway, as if expecting Jake to come back. She needed Jake to come back. But as his footfalls became fainter and softer, tears began to sting her eyes. “What was that?” She asked herself, “What even _was_ that? Oh my God, Jake, come back…” Her arm whipped forward, and the glass flew from her grasp, shattering on the floor. “ _Come back!!_ ”

But he did not come back. The broken glass lay before her, and Jane sunk down to her knees and wept. This made no sense! Jake always came back. What had happened to him? Without Jake, she was truly alone, and that frightened her more than anything had before. She curled into herself and wept into her skirt, ignoring the supper she had so meticulously prepared, ignoring the glass that should be swept up. Her pendant was an uncomfortable lump pressed into her chest, and she grabbed at it through her clothes, trying to hold it for comfort without bringing it out into the open.

Jane cried until the tears no longer came, and by then the sun had set. Whatever was in the oven was beginning to burn, and faintly, she could hear the bell ring. It was probably for supper. She would normally spring to attention and heft the food away to serve it, and be grateful if there was a morsel left over for her. But how could she do that when her only family in this wretched kingdom was sick? How could she put on a happy face, knowing that Jake could very well die on the battlefield, leaving her in the care of the Lord forever?

“I couldn’t,” She said to herself, “I just couldn’t!”

Slowly, she stood up again, and wiped her face until it was dry. She hopped over the broken glass and left the kitchen, and with each step, she stood a little straighter. The bell went unheeded, and as she neared the door, Jane thought she heard footsteps behind her, but she dared not look back. If she looked back, she might lose her nerve. It was just as she grabbed her wrap by the front door when the footsteps closed in, and they stopped just behind her. Jane felt the hair on the back of her neck prickle as their eyes raked over her back, and in defense, she pulled her wrap tighter around her shoulders.

There was a rattling intake of breath, and then a voice spoke. It was like gravel and smoke, and Jane knew it well – she knew how it could become loud and honking without a moment’s notice.

“Jane human.” She stood before the door, as still as possible, and her eyes looked to the massive shadow the speaker cast. “I rang the little bell. And you did not come. I thought we had an agreement. That you come when I ring the little bell.” A hand came to rest on her shoulder. It was as big as her head, and ended in a set of sharp claws. She had seen those claws tear through wood and through the disobedient like they were tissues.

“I’m sorry, M’Lord,” She said. It was a reflex by now. “I’m sorry. I have to find Jake.  I don’t think you noticed it, but he is very sick and I need to help him.” Jane wanted to continue, but just knowing the Lord was present scared her and she dared not say more.

The hand tightened, and Jane felt pricked by the claws through her wrap. “You seem to have your priorities. In the wrong order,” He said. His voice began to grow louder, less like a growl and more like a shout. “The Jake human. Never comes before me. No one comes before me.” She felt him lean closer. “If you turn around now. I’ll forget this and you won’t be punished. Fetch my dinner.”

“You can fetch it yourself!” Jane said, and she pulled herself from his grasp, tearing her wrap as she went. The Lord snarled, and she dove for the door.

“I won’t take you back if you leave!” He bellowed. As Jane flung the door open and ran, he added, “You won’t last a night on the streets!!”


	2. Happenstance

It had been raining since long before Jane had left the House of Lords. Within minutes even her wrap was soaked through, but she pressed on, determined to find Jake no matter how long it took. She knew the capital well enough to know his usual haunts, and as the night wore on, she stopped and asked for him at each one. The first three, rowdy taverns filled with soldiers, denied seeing him at all that night. The fourth, the shop of a friendly cobbler, said he had stopped by in the afternoon, but was long gone by now. The fifth and sixth were fine piano lounges that, upon seeing how bedraggled she had become, shut the door in her face. The seventh, the last and very favorite of his haunts, said that he had left his pistols to them for repair and left for the palace shortly after sunset. Pulling her wrap tight, Jane thanked them and left to wander the streets.

She was already on the other side of the capital now, which, unlike the safe streets near the House of Lords, was dirty and cracked in all the wrong ways. The rain had lessened to a misty drizzle, but it had become cold, and Jane had no money for an inn and no place to stay. Entering the palace was out of the question. She knew that, even if she asked for Jake at the gate, whatever had happened to him would make him refuse her, and who knows what they would do to her if she tried to flaunt her pendant. She could not return to the House of Lords either, not when she had defied the Lord so boldly. The trail, it seemed, had gone cold.

An alleyway nearby the seventh place was probably the best place she could spend the night. It was open to the street, and most of it had already become a deep puddle, but there was a spot of land between two trash bins that someone could curl up on, and Jane made a beeline for it. It stank to high heaven, and she wrinkled her nose, but she doubted there was anything better.  Jane lifted the hem of her skirt and took as wide of steps as possible, to keep from getting wet, and when she finally made it to the spot of land, she sunk down and drew her knees to her chest. If it were a clearer night, people would pass by the mouth of the alley and peer in at her, like she was some sort of attraction, but as it was, the streets were blissfully empty.

“Look what you’ve gotten yourself into,” Jane said to herself, “You’d be dry tonight if you hadn’t gone running off like a fool. You would have had supper tonight, too.” But deep down, she knew it wouldn’t have been worth it. She would have been too worried about Jake, and too disappointed in herself for not trying to find him. But what could she do now? There was no plan of action, nothing to work towards. Jake was out of reach, and even if she got to him, she didn’t know how to help him, or if anyone could. So, for the second time, Jane began to cry, and pressed her head to her knees.

For a long time, all Jane could hear was the sound of her own sniffling. When footsteps began to approach, she jumped. Who else was out and about at this time of night? Surely it couldn’t be anyone good. She felt her sobs choke her throat as the footfalls drew closer, splashing through the puddles until they finally came to a halt in front of her.

“Please,” She heard herself say, “Please don’t hurt me. Please. I’m sorry.” She pressed her back flush against the wall. “I don’t have anywhere to go…”

Whoever had stopped before her was silent for a long while, and slowly, she lifted her head to chance a look. Before her were a set of muddied boots. Next was a pair of trousers, an undershirt, and a hooded cloak, the night too dark for her to discern its color. The face that looked down at her from the hood was mostly obscured by a dark shape that covered the eyes, but behind it Jane knew she was being watched, as if she were a mouse in the fields below, stalked by a great hawk. She let out a squeak of fright and shrank into herself again.

Above her, the fellow took a sharp breath. “Shit,” He said to himself, “This isn’t how it goes at all. Um.” He cleared his throat, and Jane thought she felt something warm on her shoulder, where her wrap had been torn. “Do you really have nowhere to go?”

Oh. Oh, that was funny. Even cold and wet and frightened out of her wits, Jane found those words to be hilarious. She shrugged off the warmth and laughed. “If I had someplace,” She said, not too bitterly, “I wouldn’t be here, now would I?”

Again, the fellow was quiet, and the warmth returned, ghosting again over the tear. “You had a place once, right?” He said, “Recently, I’m guessing. But from a response like that I’d guess you were done with the crap they gave you.” Why hadn’t he hurt her yet? Were all ruffians on the street this talkative? Jane peeked up again, and found him kneeling beside her. She nearly bumped her head against the wall trying to create some space between them. “And now you’re determined to sit in an alley all night instead of go crawling back? That takes some serious balls.” She stared at him with wide eyes – his expression never changed, and from what she could tell, his tone was completely flat, but there was an ease with which he spoke that struck her as odd, in spite of herself. He inclined his head towards her, and held out a bony hand. “Got a name, Miss Serious Balls?”

Hesitantly, she reached out and clasped his hand with hers. “Jane. My name is Jane.” He shook it once and kept it in his grasp, but he did not hold it firmly.

“Well, Jane, it’s a pleasure, but it’s also way too wet out here for pleasantries. What do you think about going someplace dry?”

Immediately, Jane pulled her hand back, and he did not snatch it up again. “And what would I have to do in return?” She asked, her eyes narrowing.

“Huh. Didn’t think about anything like that, to be honest.” The fellow withdrew his hand to undo the clasp of his cloak. “I saw you and thought, hey, for once, I’ll drop the bullshit. I’ll play prince charming tonight, no strings attached. Here, take that thing off and put this on.” Jane dared not look up at his face, but she complied. When her wrap hit the ground, he put the cloak on her and fastened it, the cloth still warm on her shoulders. “But what a surprise, the damsel in distress thinks I’m pulling something. At least she’s got some brains in her head.” He held his hand to her again. “How about this, Miss Jane – I’ll bring you to a place that’s safe, a place that can give you whatever it is your heart desires. I don’t know what that could be. Maybe you need a place to crash for a little while, or a new home entirely. Maybe you’re hiding from the law, or maybe you’re in pain. Maybe you just need someone hexed, hell if I know and hell if I care. Whatever it is, this place can give it. All I ask in return is that you don’t waste what you’re given.”

Jane nearly reached out to take his hand, but she drew it back and clutched the cloak tighter around her. “How can I trust you?” She asked.

“You can’t,” He said, “You gotta take a chance. But if it helps, I won’t make you take it.” He drew back up to his full height, but his hand stayed out, waiting. “You can turn me down and stay in this alley. Keep that cloak if you want. It’ll find its way back into my hands no matter what you decide. But I’m just saying, it would be pretty dumb to refuse.” It would be dumb to accept, Jane almost said, but she thought of how freely he had given up his own protection from the cold, and how gentle his touch had been. He was trying to put her at ease, and had given her complete control of the situation – that is, if he was being honest. If not, he was very good at pretending.

Perhaps there was a time and place where she refused his offer, and stayed in that alley for the night. No one could say where her path would go if she had. She might have died on those streets, or she might have fought tooth and nail in the gutters for survival. She might have saved Jake all on her own, or she might have never seen him again. But such a future is irrelevant, for at that moment, Jane took a chance, and took the fellow’s hand. He held it with reverence, and gently pulled her to her feet.

“Come on. It’s not far.”

~*~

The fellow brought her through puddle-strewn streets to a small corner of the capital that Jane had never seen before. It was close to the palace walls, but not close enough to be guarded, and in the wedge between the walls and the rest of the city was a cream townhouse three stories tall. It was surprisingly well kept for a building not in the vicinity of the House of Lords. The steps had been swept clean, the wrought-iron window bars polished, and a line of rosebushes sat along the front, perfectly trimmed. They must have been lovely when in bloom, Jane thought. There was a brass knocker on the door, and the fellow rapped with it three times.

“Where is this place?” Jane asked him, but he held a finger to his lips and said nothing. Eventually, she could hear footsteps from within, and after a heavy click, the door opened. At first, Jane thought the soft light that seeped through the crack was a candle, but then a troll stepped out – the troll’s skin was glowing all on its own, and she looked out at them with wide, blinking eyes. Her hair was cropped fashionably short, and her housecoat was a striking emerald green that only enhanced her pallor. Jane couldn’t take her eyes off of her.

“Evening, Miss Maryam,” The fellow said, inclining his head. Miss Maryam, as she was addressed, frowned, and pulled her housecoat tighter.

“Did you forget something?” She asked. Her Common Speech was smooth and exacting, if a bit haughty. “It’s very late, Sir. You will be missed if you do not return home soon.”

“Yeah, I know.” He gestured to Jane. “Can I come in for a minute? I’ve got someone for your mistress.” Miss Maryam turned her gaze to Jane, and her expression slowly softened.

“Oh my,” She said, and turned back to the fellow. “Who is this?”

“Her name’s Jane,” He said, and he nudged her forward. “She’s in need of some help.”

“Well I can see that,” Miss Maryam said, and she stepped forward to take Jane by the arm. “Please, come inside. You can come in too, Sir, if you like.”

“I would, thanks.” As they entered the house, the fellow closed the door behind them, and the only light they had was Miss Maryam’s glowing skin. “Gotta get my cloak back anyway. Take your time,” He said as he saw Jane reach for the clasp, “Keep it on until you’ve got something to change into.” Miss Maryam left them in the foyer and began to light candles. As she did, the glow from her skin diminished, and when the room was filled with a flickering light, her skin had turned the usual grey color of trolls. The foyer was small but grand, with a high ceiling and a spiral staircase of wrought iron. Hanging from the ceiling in the middle of the staircase was a bell with a long string, and Miss Maryam gave it three quick tugs. The bell above tinkled merrily, and after a moment, another bell from within the house rang to greet it.

“My mistress will be down in a moment,” Miss Maryam said, and she turned to Jane. “However, those wet clothes cannot wait. Come with me.” She did not give Jane a choice, for she took her arm again and guided her away from the fellow. He waved after them nonchalantly.

“Yeah, go on, leave me to handle her when she’s groggy, I don’t mind,” He said. If his inflection wasn’t so flat, Jane would have thought he was being sarcastic. Miss Maryam simply laughed, and led her into a sitting room, the glow of her skin returning to light it. Jane would have liked to take a closer look at the décor, but before she could, she felt a set of hands stripping her of the cloak.

“Oh!!” The still air was cold, and Jane shivered. “Erm, Miss Maryam, please-”

“You needn’t trouble yourself with formalities,” She said, setting the cloak on the room’s divan, “Kanaya is fine. Now, relax, and I will get you out of those wet clothes.”

She approached and spun Jane around to make short work of her dress’s buttons. Jane grabbed at her pendant through the front, and panic seized her at the thought of anyone seeing it.

“But Miss Maryam, I can undress myself-”

“ _Kanaya_ ,” She chided, and it didn’t matter how tightly Jane held onto her pendant, for Kanaya’s tugs were insistent, and soon the wet material was peeled from her body, leaving her in her underthings. On reflex, Jane covered herself with her arms, and her face turned red as she was given another once-over. Then, without any fuss, Kanaya slipped off her own housecoat and handed it to Jane. “I might have something you can wear upstairs,” She said, “But for now you can borrow this.”

Jane took the housecoat, and had to stop herself from marveling at how soft it was to the touch. She slipped it on almost reverently, and while it was much thinner than the cloak had been, it was just as warm, and it fit her snugly when it was tied. “Gosh…this is so very kind of you, Miss Maryam. Thank you.”

“Think nothing of it,” Kanaya said, and she smiled, but Jane could not think nothing of it. She had just met this woman – who was not even the mistress of the house – and had inconvenienced her, and yet she did not seem to mind. And the fellow too, he had actually led her to someplace with someone who had so far shown her nothing but kindness. Jane must have looked ready to faint, for Kanaya took her arm again and led her to the divan to sit. She then left the room, leaving the door ajar, and Jane sat there, silently reeling from all that had happened in such a short night. Outside, she could hear a pair of muffled voices converse in the foyer, and she strained her ears to hear.

“-Why you can’t just take her back with you,” Said an unfamiliar voice. It too was haughty and refined, but different from Kanaya’s in a more natural way. “No one would question you.”

“No one but the usual Dersite rags,” Said the fellow, “You’re forgetting there’s a war on the rise. They’ll find any nook they can weasel into and turn it into a giant gaping hole of bullshit and the people will eat it up. All of the time shenanigans in the world couldn’t fix it, and there’s no way I’m putting anyone through them.”

“Your brother would go through them,” The unfamiliar voice said. There was a pause, and a shuffling of feet.

“He’d jump off a bridge for me. Not that I would let him.” The other voice sighed.

“As you’ve told me before, at length.”

“You say that like you didn’t enjoy my sick alliterations and devotions.”

“On the contrary, I found them to be enlightening. But we have a matter at hand, and it is quite late. Where is this guest of yours?”

“I think Kanaya put her in your sitting room.”

The voice did not respond, and Jane thought they had reached a lull in the conversation when the door swung open, and in stepped a young woman with a candle in her hand. She was shorter than Jane, with cropped blonde hair and tired eyes like amethyst. She too was in a housecoat, and her hair was disheveled, but there was something together about her, something that would not allow her to slouch or show any sign of exhaustion. When she saw Jane, she smiled, and Jane nearly gasped in spite of herself. She had seen that smile before – had seen this woman from afar before, seated with the Lord and challenging everything he said with ice and confidence.

“The Duchess of Lalonde!” Jane exclaimed, “Oh my God!”

If anything, that made her smile more; it even reached her eyes, which crinkled at the edges. “Well! My reputation precedes me, but there’s no need to be so formal. Call me Rose.” She held her hand out. It was small, and the nails were round and clean. “I’ve been told your name is Jane? It’s nice to meet you.” Jane looked at the hand, then back to the Duchess.

“Erm, likewise,” said Jane, and she shook Rose’s hand. She felt embarrassed about her own hands, already so calloused for her age, and when Rose let go she quickly withdrew it. “Please forgive my intrusion, I-I never expected…”

“You are forgiven and more,” Rose said, and turned back to the fellow, who stood behind her. In the light he was fair and almost white haired, and while his eyes were still obscured by his peculiar spectacles, it relieved her to better see his face. “Your savior can be very intimidating even when he doesn’t mean to. It’s his breeding more than anything.”

“Oh how rude,” The fellow said, “Someone is actually suspicious of me and you tell her it’s my breeding. I call it common fucking sense, and thank God someone has it for once.”

“So you’re not offended that she didn’t fall into your arms at first sight?” Rose asked. She raised an eyebrow, but she still smiled.

The fellow shrugged, and turned to Jane. “Stalwart skepticism isn’t anything to take lightly. The fact that she came with me at all means there’s a shot of optimism running through it. That’s not something you tend to find in Derse. Well,” And he brought a hand up to rub at the back of his neck. “Not often, anyway.”

Was he trying to compliment her? Jane couldn’t tell. She bowed her head anyway, a bit flustered from the attention. There was then a knock at the door, and she glanced up to see Kanaya enter the room, a great many things in her arms. The fellow whistled.

“Looks like it’s my cue to cut out,” He said, and he came to the divan and plucked up his cloak. It was a deep purple in the faint light, and Jane could make out silver runes on the edges. He turned towards her as he put it back on, and she could only assume he was meeting her gaze. When he did not say anything, Jane faltered.

“Um.” She held out her hand to him. “I suppose I should thank you. I’m in your debt.”

Then an interesting thing happened. The fellow’s mouth turned up slightly, almost as if he were smiling. He took her hand and shook it. “Only if you don’t make use of this chance. Remember? That’s what we agreed on.”

She nodded. “We did, didn’t we, Sir?” She then realized something, and said, “Hey now! You never told me your name!” He chuckled and let his grip slip from her hand until just their fingertips were caught.

“Must’ve slipped my mind,” He said, “Although are you sure you want to know? I hear the whole mysterious savior thing is in vogue right now.”

Jane frowned. “I am quite sure I want to know,” She said. His smile grew.

“It’s Dirk,” He said, and their fingertips slipped from each other. He inclined his head in respect. “Good night, Miss Jane.”

She inclined hers in return, although she still frowned. “And good night to you too, Sir Dirk.”

“Yes, Dirk, good night,” Rose said, and she took him by the shoulders and led him away, the door clicking closed behind them. Kanaya was once again the only light in the room, and she glanced at the door with an amused smirk.

“I believe Rose will question you in the morning,” She said, “She was not nearly as loquacious as she normally is, so I will safely assume she would prefer to go to bed.” She then turned to Jane and smiled. “Would you like to freshen up? It’s no trouble to run a bath.”

Jane felt her mouth hang open. “A-Are you sure?!” She asked. Kanaya nodded, and beckoned her to follow. Feeling quite bashful, she did, and Kanaya led her back out to the foyer and up the spiral steps to the second floor. It led to a long hallway, and at one end a door was already open, golden light seeping out from the cracks. Jane followed Kanaya inside, and her hands flew to cover her mouth. Before her was a bathing room with a beautiful porcelain tub, and it had already been filled with hot water. Kanaya looked particularly pleased with herself. “This is – how did you-”

“I started it the moment I came up, and shut the water before I came down,” She said, and set the bundle in her arms down on a countertop before a large mirror. “If you could get in, I will arrange some things here.”

Was this some sort of dream? Jane expected to wake up in her cold little cot in the cellar any moment. She took off the emerald housecoat and, after a moment of thought, brought it to the countertop where Kanaya was laying out a great many things. There were soaps and creams and a set of pajamas, and most interestingly, there was a silver razor. Jane wondered what she would need a razor for, and then she felt her hair come loose. Kanaya had pulled off her cap, and her nose wrinkled at the sight of the tangled mess.

“I had a feeling you were hiding something under that,” She said, “All of this will have to go. Would I be right in assuming you can’t even manage this much hair?” Before Jane could open her mouth to argue, she saw Kanaya’s eyes drift to her chest. “Oh, my. What is _that_?”

“Huh?” Jane looked down, and her eyes caught a glint of gold and the sheen of amber. It felt as if the world had suddenly tilted. The pendant, the one the Madame told her to keep hidden, was in plain sight! And Kanaya was staring right at it, her eyes widening with every second. Jane grabbed it and held it tight, until she felt the pendant dig into her palm. Kanaya made a funny sound when she did that, something like distress and surprise.

“Wait, please,” Kanaya said, “Could I just-”

“No!” Jane felt dizzy with fear. How could she have let this hang out in the open? What if someone else had seen? “It’s just an old pendant, it’s nothing special-”

Two grey hands clasped Jane’s, and their hold was firm. “Please. I thought I saw…” Kanaya paused, and her face shifted. She looked pained, Jane realized, and it was a shock to see someone so expressive after being indebted to someone so impassive. “I am probably mistaken, but it would mean the world to me if you could let me see it.”

It was the emotion on her face and in her voice that broke Jane’s resolve. Hesitantly, she uncurled her fingers, and when she could not bring herself to open them more, Kanaya finished the job for her, gently prying them open. The pendant had made imprints in Jane’s hand, and the inlaid ‘P’ lay present for the world to see – even if the world was, at present, just one troll. Jane felt her breath catch in her throat when Kanaya pressed the tip of her finger to it reverently.

“It _is_ what I thought it was,” She whispered, and she looked up to Jane with genuine surprise. “And that means you are-”

“Please,” Jane said, “Stop babbling and promise me you won’t tell anyone in Derse about this stupid thing!”

“Tell anyone?” Kanaya asked, “No, you have misunderstood me, I…” She drew back from Jane, and seemed to hesitate before she dropped to one knee. “My Lady, I am on your side.”

The echo of Jane’s cry of confusion could be heard throughout the neighborhood, and even in the nearby parts of the courtyard of the Palace of Derse. By those who heard it, it was forever referred to as ‘The Vast What’.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now Chapter 2 for your reading pleasure. Chapter 3 should go up soon.


	3. Bargain

Once she had calmed down, Jane insisted that Kanaya explain herself right then in the bathroom, and she would not budge until she was given an answer. Now, being a very composed and intelligent troll, Kanaya was not one to be showy or emotional, but it took her a moment to compose herself adequately. This was, after all, just as much of a shock to her as it was to Jane. Eventually, she coaxed Jane into the bathtub and convinced her to listen as she cut her hair, for while an explanation was in order, the mess atop her head absolutely could not wait.

“Do you know where trolls come from?” Kanaya began, taking the matted curls into her hand.

“I don’t,” Jane said.

“Well, I will tell you.” Kanaya twisted the hair in her hands until it was a length that she could work at, and then reached for the razor. “There are caverns below the Scratchlands, exactly in their center, and in these caverns is where our Mother Grub lives. Every troll is hatched from those caverns, and if they make it through their trials, they are taken in by a lusus and raised in either Prospit or Derse.”

Jane hummed, and shifted a bit in the water. It warmed her to the core, so she was only half listening as she reveled in this simple comfort.

“As trolls go,” Kanaya continued, “I was a bit different. No lusus waited for me at the end of the trials. Out of every grub that made its way to Prospit, there were six of us who were retrieved by Her Excellency, the Madame Calliope herself, and brought to be raised as the Courtesans of Prospit.”

Now that caught Jane’s attention. She would have turned around, if the sound of snapping hair did not remind her of the razor behind her. “You’ve met the Madame?” She asked.

“Eventually,” Kanaya answered. She pulled Jane’s hair tighter. “The other Courtesans and I stayed primarily in the castle during our grubhood. She only came to stay in the castle when we were…hmm. I would like to say we were three and a half sweeps old, but it was a bit more than that.” What was a sweep, Jane wanted to ask, but Kanaya continued before she could. “She taught us many things. She even took me on in the Esoteric Art of Space for a while, although I could never quite reach her mastery.”

The Esoteric Arts…now that was something Jane had heard of before. If she remembered her lessons with the Madame correctly, they were a set of twelve disciplines that channeled the natural energies of the world, and their study was limited to the nobility and the Cherubs. It was the right of the powerful to take one on, either through schooling or innate ability, and while Jane was part of that elite group, she had never taken one for herself. She never had the time nor the privacy to do so in the Lord’s house. She thought about this as Kanaya prattled on about Space, only coming back when Kanaya said, “-But the Battle of Crumpled Hat put an end to my lessons.”

“The – I’m sorry, Crumpled Hat?” Jane asked. “I’ve never heard anyone say something so silly with a straight face!” She chortled a little, but when Kanaya did not join in, she stopped.

“I assure you that it was no laughing matter,” Kanaya said, and she tugged Jane’s hair just a little tighter than was necessary. Each new word became more stressed and harsh. “Do you know how harrowing it is to fight in a skirmish of that size at the age of six sweeps? To see your only friends flee before you, to be surrounded by an army ordered to bring back a greenblooded troll? To have strange humans scream at you until one takes pity and gives you to his daughter as a present – and all because of a crumpled hat!” Jane could feel Kanaya sawing into her hair with the razor. “If I ever find the troll who crumpled that stupid hat, I swear I will just…just-”

“Okay!” Jane exclaimed, “Okay, I understand, please just – stop – pulling – my hair!”

“Oh!” Kanaya’s grip immediately slackened, and Jane could feel the cut strands fall down her back and into the bath water. “I’m – I’m sorry. Do forgive me, it is…something of a sore spot for me. But, um, yes.” She cleared her throat. “That is how I came to Derse. It’s been about one and one third of a sweep since then.” Jane felt the razor at her hair again, and the bathroom fell into a quiet lull.

“…Have you been working for the Duchess – I mean, Rose – since then?” Jane asked.

“I have.”

“Do you like it?”

“No. But I have come to like Rose.”

“Does she know you’re from Prospit?”

“Of course.”

“Are you going to tell her about me?”

The razor came to a halt, and Jane could hear it click as it was set aside. Her head felt extremely light.

“…No, My Lady,” Kanaya finally said. Something cold was plopped onto Jane’s head, and she squeaked when she felt fingers work it into her scalp. “Unless you choose to tell her, she will not know.”

It was so strange, to feel someone else cleaning her hair, so Jane ducked out of Kanaya’s touch and moved around to face her. The troll’s face was tired, but there was a smile there, something relieved and hopeful, for what she could not tell. Jane leaned her head back into the water and brought her hands up to rinse it.

“I have one last thing,” Jane said, trying not to marvel at how little hair she had left. She hadn’t realized it had been cut so short. “I know that crumpled hat story must be important to you, or you wouldn’t have gotten so angry about it, so please don’t take this the wrong way. I would really appreciate some proof of your origins is all.”

Kanaya hummed and nodded, dipping her hands in the water to rid them of suds. “Understandable. I don’t, however, have any documents or the like to prove my story is true, so I am not sure what kind of proof you desire instead.”

Now that was a pickle. What kind of proof _did_ she want? Jane pressed a finger to her chin as she thought, and finally, she shrugged. “Surprise me.” Kanaya bowed her head.

“I’ll do my best.”

The bath ended soon after that, and Jane was shuffled away from the draining tub, the emerald housecoat tied on and a dressing gown in her arms. Kanaya glowed again when they entered the dark hallway, and they climbed the stairs to the third and top floor. This had three doors, two on one side and one on the other, and that one was ajar. From inside, Jane could see the faint glow of a candle, and she heard the frantic scribbling of a quill on paper. As Kanaya passed it, the scribbling stopped, and there was the delicate sound of a throat being cleared.

“Kanaya.”

The troll stopped, and she peered through the crack of a doorway. “Yes, Rose?”

“Was I right?”

Jane wanted to ask what she could have been right about, but in front of her, Kanaya stilled, and her glow faltered. She could not see her face to discern what she might be feeling, but those signs were enough to make Jane curious. “…Yes, Rose.”

“Hm.” If she strained her ears, Jane could hear the tapping of a quill against an ink well, and then the scratching picked up anew. “Thank you, Kanaya. Good night.” And then, as they passed, she said, “Good night to you too, Jane.”

The exchange was off-putting to say the least, so Jane hummed in response and tried not to think about it. The room Kanaya brought her to was plain and small, but it was much cozier than her leaky, freezing cellar, and the bed certainly looked comfortable. When Kanaya left her for the night, Jane made a beeline for it and, ignoring the nagging feeling in her mind, she fell into a long and grateful sleep.

Her dreams were hazy nonsense, but she was sure they featured Jake heavily. Even with the vague assurance of safety the Duchess’s house offered, he still weighed heavily on her unconscious mind. Was Jake really going to war? Was he excited, or scared? Did he really not remember her at all? No matter the strange allies she had been extremely lucky to make tonight, without Jake on her side she truly felt alone. It was a miracle that she slept at all.

~*~

In the Lord’s house, Jane was used to rising before the sun and working all morning long. When she finally woke up today, the sun was just beginning to peak over the horizon, lending a golden sheen to Derse’s streets. She bolted straight up in bed, sight blurry, heart pounding.

“Oh my God, - I’ve woken up late, I’ve woken up late!” She said to herself. Her body was heavy and tired, and she could not untangle herself from the sheets. “I’m in for it now, oh my God…” It took her a moment to realize that she had not woken up in her cold little cellar, and once she did, she sighed and flopped back onto the bed.

The morning was quiet; even the street outside had not filled with its usual traffic. Jane almost thought she could hear a bird sing by the windowsill, and she drew the covers tighter around her body. It was okay for her to be selfish for once, wasn’t it? Normally she would have already worked for a few hours, setting the house in order and preparing breakfast for the Lord and his Lady. She would have been lucky to get a moment to eat a slice of bread before she was called away. It had been so different with the Madame. Back then, she would wake up late in the morning and climb onto a high stool with Jake and Roxy, and they would cheer when the Madame gave them wedges of peach cornbread to eat. It was simply the best thing Jane had ever eaten in her young life, and she hadn’t even gotten to make it for herself since she came to Derse. She always thought of those days on beautiful mornings, and she wished she hadn’t been so carefree back then. Perhaps she could have enjoyed them far more if she had known they wouldn’t last.

The sound of a knock at the door broke Jane from her reverie. After a moment, the door opened, and she could just make out a peering pair of eyes. “Jane? Am I disturbing you?” The door opened wider, and Kanaya poked her head in. “If I am, I can come back later, but your breakfast will have cooled considerably and it will not taste as good.”

“Um…no, I’m up.” Jane struggled yet again to push the blankets off of her, for her limbs were still heavy with sleep. “You didn’t have to make me breakfast.”

“Of course I did,” Kanaya said, and she slipped inside, a small covered tray balanced in one arm. “You are our guest.” She brought the tray to a far corner of the room, where a small table and two chairs had been placed. Jane had been too tired to notice them the night before.

“Well…if you insist.” It was strange to know that someone had made her food after all this time, but it was a kind gesture nonetheless. Jane rose and went to the table, eyeing the tray curiously. Kanaya had grasped the handle on the top, and her knuckles had turned ashen.

“I…I do hope I’ve made it right,” Kanaya said, “I could not remember exactly how it went, since I’ve never made it myself before.” Jane glanced at her face, and saw a tense expression. Kanaya was worried. “It is – well, I want to use this as the proof you desired, if you will accept it.”

Now that was strange. Jane raised an eyebrow, but she smiled. “I suppose I could, whatever it is. But won’t it get cold if we dilly-dally like this?”

“Oh! Yes.” The cover listed, and Jane was hit with a wonderful scent, something that she could only describe as yellow. Before her sat a few things – a glass of milk, a little silver fork, and a pristine white plate, atop which rested, amazingly, a slice of peach cornbread. It drooped at the point a bit, and some of the peach juices had pooled on the plate already, but it would probably taste the same as it had long ago.

“…How?” Jane asked, her chest tight. Tears pricked her eyes, but she did not quite know why. Kanaya gave her a nervous smile.

“Madame Calliope used to make it for us,” She said, “I never usually liked sweets, but no one could ever…are you crying?”

She was. Jane scrubbed at her eyes, but there was a smile on her face that would not go away. She heard a chair scrape, and before she knew it she was hugging Kanaya, laughing and crying and just so relieved that she had stumbled upon someone who would keep her secret, who she could trust. Maybe she could even tell Kanaya about Jake, and maybe they could figure out some way to help him! She was bound to know something that could be useful, living in a Duchess’s house. Her heart was joyful again, and she would have kept on hugging Kanaya for quite a long time, had there not been another knock.

“Am I interrupting something?” A voice asked, and Jane looked to see Rose at the door, bringing a large, steaming teacup to her quirked lips. Kanaya pulled back immediately and shook her head, her eyes downcast.

“No, Rose,” She said. “Did you need something?”

“Nothing in particular.” Rose took a sip of her tea and leaned against the doorframe. “I would like to talk to our guest, though. If she feels up for it.” Her eyes flickered to Jane. “Do you?”

Jane fidgeted on the spot. Rose’s gaze had a way of pinning a person in place. “I wouldn’t refuse if you insisted,” She said. Part of her did want to talk to Kanaya for a while, to get everything off of her chest, and the other part wanted to eat her breakfast, but when dealing with nobility one had to put their wants to the side, especially if one did not want to give themselves away.

“If it is a question of breakfast,” Rose said, “Rest assured that I won’t be offended if you eat while we talk. I have my tea.” She then looked to Kanaya. “I have a list for you on my desk. If you could take care of everything on it before the afternoon-”

“Of course,” Kanaya said, and she curtsied and left them, sparing Jane one last glance before she shut the door.

Now that they were alone, Rose let out a long breath, and her shoulders relaxed. She gestured to the table. “Let’s sit.”

And Jane sat. She did not dare even lift her fork until Rose had gotten comfortable in her seat, and every bite she took was very small. Not only did Jane want to savor this wonderful surprise, she also wanted to be ready if she needed to speak.

“So, Jane.” Rose leaned back in her seat and crossed her legs to balance her cup on her knee. “What were you doing out in the rain last night? Dirk was not forthcoming with the details of your predicament. Although, judging by his appraisal of your skepticism, I doubt you told him.”

Jane nodded, eyes widening at the Duchess’s perception. “That’s right. Um.” She fiddled with the fork in her fingertips. “Well, I. Formerly, I…worked in the House of Lords. I was its Maid for eight years.” Rose nodded, but Jane could detect a subtle frown to her lips. “Last night, erm, something came up, and I couldn’t stay there anymore, so I left the house.”

“Please tell me you have no intention of returning.”

“Huh?” Jane blinked at that. Rose uncrossed her legs and took a sip of her tea.

“Caliborn is a pig and a disgrace to his own people. I wouldn’t wish a position in his house on my worst enemy.” A delicate eyebrow rose high enough for Jane to see it over the rim of the cup. “How impressive of you to leave his house of your own volition! Cherubs have quite the irresistible draw, you know. Especially if you look them in the eyes.” Rose set her cup down on the table and spent a moment adjusting its placement with her fingertips. “You must either keep your head down or have an unusually strong will to defy them. Whatever inspired you to leave, it must be quite important to you.”

Jane hummed, and lowered her gaze to her breakfast. There _had_ always been a tenseness in the air whenever she met the gaze of the Lord, like a string that had been tied in her spine had been pulled, and she could not ignore where its tug sent her in fear of punishment. Now, at least, she knew that she was not the only one who felt this. It was embarrassing to consider admitting that she hadn’t defied him to his face, especially to someone who she had seen do it time and again.

“So what exactly was it that gave you the strength to run away?” Rose then asked, and Jane stilled. It was probably alright to tell her about Jake, right? But what if Rose wanted to know more – could she really lie to royalty if she had to? Jane took another bite of her breakfast to stall and think. Rose was quite patient.

“It was for, um. My cousin. I don’t know if you’ve heard of him? His name is Jake English.”

“Jake English? I have heard of him. My cousins seem quite enthralled with his skills in combat as of late.” The cup came up again. “Did you want to follow him to war?”

Jane shook her head. “Not exactly. Jake acted strangely when he came home to tell me – he couldn’t remember that we were cousins.” Her face hardened, and she leaned forward a bit. “Wait a minute. What IS this war about, anyway? When had it been declared? Usually I hear about these sorts of things – it’s hard not to when people are yelling about them.”

Rose set her cup down again, and she closed her eyes in thought. “It’s to be announced to the populace today,” She explained, “But the Lords and Ladies have known of it for a few days now. Apparently, our dear Lord Caliborn has reason to believe that Prospit has been keeping secrets, and has insulted us in the most grievous of ways. There are rumors that the Heir on Prospit’s throne is not the true Heir at all, and that a Princess has been smuggled over the border into our lands, living unfettered as a threat to our sovereignty.” The color drained out of Jane’s face, and she was grateful that Rose had closed her eyes. “The old wives’ tales of a unified Prospit and Derse are a nightmare to our Crown Prince. He has often told me so, but never why. Still, he would not hesitate to crush Prospit and its Princess if he could, and that is why he is so willing to spring to war even for rumors.” Suddenly, her eyes opened, and Jane thought they seemed brighter, wider, like they could see into every corner of her heart and mind. The moment passed, and the eyes changed to their normal purple hue as they flickered to Jane’s collarbone and crinkled in amusement.

“Jane,” She said, “You do know it is treason to wear gold in Derse, yes? Eight years here would have told you that.”

“Huh?” Jane looked down, and, just by the collar of her dressing gown, the chain of her pendant glinted. Rose chuckled.

“How did you survive this long, I wonder?” She asked, “Squirreled away in the House of Lords under everyone’s nose? That is something I cannot see, Princess of Prospit.”

Jane felt as if her insides had dropped right out of her. One hand grabbed at her pendant through her dressing gown, as if it could keep her safe, and the other grasped the bottom of the chair as she tried to push it as far away from Rose as possible. Immediately the smiles and amused looks dropped, and Rose stood up, abandoning her tea on the table.

“No! No, don’t come any closer,” Jane said. The chair hit the far wall, and Jane could push it no further. “I don’t know how you know who I am, but – but-”

“Calm down!” Rose held her hands up in peace. “I’m not trying to intimidate you. I’m not trying to threaten you. Just listen to what I have to say.”

“Is that what you meant when you asked Kanaya if you were right last night?” Jane asked in a panic. “You knew who I was right when you saw me, didn’t you?”

Rose took a deep breath, and lowered her hands. “I did,” She started, “But not for any ill reason. I am a Seer. I saw your arrival before the idea to run after your cousin was even an inkling in your head.” Jane had heard that the Duchess of Lalonde was an accomplished Seer, so she did not balk at her words, but she was still wary as Rose drew near. “And I don’t mean to cause you any harm. To be honest, if you were here to sweep my dear cousin off his feet and paint the kingdoms pink, I would be the last person in your way. But think about it – our meeting like this, on the brink of war between our lands, isn’t just coincidence. It must be fate. Let me help you Jane, with whatever it is you wish.”

Jane eyed Rose critically. There had to be a catch. There was always a catch, and even if it had to be made up on the spot, it would be there. She swallowed hard, and winced at the lump in her throat.

“Why?” Jane asked. “Why would you help me?”

At this, Rose smiled again. It was nothing like before, where there was an edge of ice to the gesture. This was genuine and warm. “The same Prince that would kill you,” said Rose, “Is my kin, and he is an unhappy man. Maybe there is part of me that has faith in what you’ll do that is still yet to be seen.”

The Madame’s whisperings of a Prince in his tower came to Jane’s mind, and she blushed. It would be a thrill, she thought, to come into someone’s life and fall in love with them, but if the Crown Prince was really so opposed to her mere presence, Jane doubted she could do anything about it. She shook her head clear from the nagging thought and said, “I can’t make any promises.”

“And I don’t intend for you to,” Rose said. “But I have a good feeling about you, Jane. Tell me what it is you need.”

The room was quiet, save for the sound of morning songbirds and the beginnings of the hustle and bustle of the day outside. In the hall, Jane swore she could hear footsteps, and presumed that Kanaya was just outside the door, either busy with Rose’s list or eavesdropping. Should she really take this opportunity? It seemed far too good to be true…and then she remembered her promise to Dirk. She would probably never see the strange man again, but part of her did not want to go back on that promise. It had, after all, led her to something extraordinary. So, perhaps this meeting really was fate. Perhaps this was the first step she could take in saving Jake.

Slowly, Jane stood up, and she dragged her chair back to the table. “I’ve got to help MY cousin,” She said. “He’s forgotten me somehow, and he’s going to run off to war, and I don’t give a horse’s behind how impressive he is in a scrum, he will still get hurt, or worse! I’ve got to figure out what happened to him, and for that I’ve got to be near him.” Jane sat down and folded her hands in her lap, looking Rose right in the eye. “If you know a way I could do that, then I’m all ears.”

Rose hummed, and she too sat down, her warmth receding into a calculated calm. “Well, I can’t just sneak you into the castle to confront him. That might draw too much attention to you, and there will be no one there to aid you should trouble come. Perhaps your only option is to go to war, too.”

“But how? I’m not a warrior of any kind.”

“The march will not start until spring. I think that is time enough to teach you the basics of courtly duels.” Rose’s hand reached out for her teacup again. “Obviously I cannot put you in my own regiment of soldiers, but if I were to keep you at my side, like I will Kanaya, you could pose as a Lady-In-Waiting. They are those who act for nobles who cannot or choose not to act. At the very least you will have to know how to duel.”

“But how exactly does that get me closer to Jake?” Jane asked.

“That you will have to figure out on your own,” Rose answered. “I can only get you so far. I cannot snare your cousin from the ranks – at least, not alone. Perhaps if you curried the favor of the other Lords and Ladies, they would be able to lobby with the Princes for your wishes, and perhaps then you will have more chances at helping him – I wouldn’t be surprised if they wouldn’t be willing to take a look at him themselves, if this forgetting business is serious. But for now, this is all I can think of.”

Jane nodded, her gaze hard and her determination set, although in her heart she was afraid. To go to war against what was rightfully her own land was never her intention, but Jake was on the line, and she couldn’t abandon him. “I’ll take it. If it’s my only chance, I don’t have a choice, right?”

~*~

He’d been out too late last night again, and he was exhausted, but that was his own fault. It hadn’t been the girl Jane’s fault; she had been thrown into the street. It was his because he cared enough to bring her out of the rain. Rose would take care of whatever she needed, of that he was sure, and that was the only good thought he had to hold onto.

Good thoughts were in short supply when the First Lord of Derse came calling.

“Bitches aren’t worth your time,” The Lord said as he towered before him. How the Lord could still tower on the floor while he sat on his throne was beyond his comprehension. The shades, as per request, had been removed, and he was open to the Cherub’s influence. “Your time is like money. Or so the human saying goes. Don’t waste it on the bitches.”

“You telling me not to buy any hookers, Caliborn?” He asked, only feeling a weak shadow of his usual rapport. “You don’t exactly set the best example.”

“Don’t sass me boy. I invented sass.”

“Yes, sir.”

“You have more important fish to fry. Like all of Prospit. And its presumptuous fools who think they can trick us.” The eyes that bore into his were big and red and frightening, and sometimes they flickered and changed at unfathomable speeds. Thank God they were only red for now. Red he could handle. Red he could pretend belonged to someone who hadn’t been a twisted cog in the machinery of his life, a comfort and a menace all at once. “But most of all. Their deception involving the worst of the bitches. The bitch that could bring you. And everything you were born for. Crumbling into ruin. The Sunlit Princess of bitches. So we’re striking them down before they find her. Before she brings you to your knees. And makes you submit.”

The feelings that rose within him were not always present. With the shades on, he could pretend he never felt this way about a girl he’d never met, and almost feel sorry for her, wherever she was. But fear and hate were plucked strings in his heart, resonating now with fervor, and his jaw clenched along with his fist. He knew not where the Cherub’s feelings ended and his own began.

“If anyone’s gonna make anyone else submit,” Said Prince Dirk, “It’s gonna be me.”


	4. Commencement

The morning was a whirlwind of activity for Jane. It turned out that Rose’s list for Kanaya was to prepare things for her – to call a tailor to make measurements, and to call a physician for an examination, and even to trim her already shortened hair. Jane had never been so fussed over in her entire life, and it was quite overwhelming, for it was all done nearly immediately. Rose was always nearby, observing as Jane was prodded with medical instruments and pinned into various cuts of cloth. By the time noon rolled around, Jane was more than happy to watch the strangers leave and get a moment’s rest in the parlor.

“What was all that for?” Jane asked.

“You’re to be my Lady-In-Waiting, aren’t you?” Rose said, and she seated herself on the divan as if it were a throne. “I want to make sure you look, feel, and act at your peak. Otherwise, no one is going to buy that I chose you to represent me over anyone else.”

“It’s true,” Kanaya added. “Many up-and-coming ladies vie for things like this. Very few actually make anything out of it, though.”

“That’s because they think politics is all about gossip and pretty parties.” Rose twirled a bit of hair around her finger. “Not in Derse. Both of those things are considerably lacking. A lot of it is knowing when and how to fight.”

“You did mention duels before,” Jane said, “What do duels have to do with anything?” That got a laugh out of Rose.

“It’s got a lot to do with everything. Now, am I right in assuming the both of you have already spoken of your origins?” When both ladies nodded, she continued. “Like Prospit, Derse has adopted a select number of trolls to its noble circle. Did you ever associate much with trolls, Jane?”

“Not really,” Jane admitted, shaking her head, “I think Kanaya is the first I’ve ever talked to who wasn’t a little off-putting.” At that, Kanaya smiled pleasantly, and her cheeks turned a funny shade of emerald.

“They aren’t really that different from humans,” Rose said, turning her gaze to Kanaya, “Perhaps more prone to anger and tantrums the further you climb their hierarchy, some aesthetic differences aside. But I digress. Troll Nobility is directly responsible for the upkeep and running of Dersite society. They are the heads in the chains of command for municipalities. As such, they often lobby for attention from the Princes, and to prove the worth of their arguments, they duel.”

“But wouldn’t it make much more sense to argue their points?” Jane asked.

Rose nodded. “It would, but noble traditions are a hard thing to overcome. Ever since Derse became its own entity, Lord Caliborn has wormed many violent and exacerbating practices into the psyche of courtly life. I hear it was commonplace for duels to last until the loser had fainted from blood loss in the past.” When she noticed how pale Jane’s face had gotten, she quickly cleared her throat. “Dueling IS more civilized these days. I believe the people demanded it be fixed when one of the princes of the past bled to death. Regardless, you’ll need a weapon of your own, something bladed that you can use with one hand preferably, but the rules of armament are relatively flexible. If you are to stand in for me, you must duel.”

“Are you going to teach me how?” Jane asked.

“As best I can. If this were an actual bid for ladyship, I would teach you something of combat too, but you won’t be expected to ride into battle, and we have little time as it is.” She nodded to Kanaya again. “The tailor should have something suitable for day wear by the afternoon, and when you have put it on, Kanaya shall take you to procure a weapon of your own.” Jane nearly choked in surprise.

“Y-You don’t have to purchase anything like that for me-”

“On the contrary, I would rather you have your own weapon than use one of mine.” Rose shrugged. “Perhaps I am selfish, but I do not like lending out my rapiers. Besides, you need something that will suit you. You could even take it with you when you ascend your throne.”

Jane hummed, and turned her gaze to her lap. She did not like the idea of fighting, courtly or otherwise, and she hoped that the other nobles would not be eager for duels with a war on the way.

This break was Jane’s only reprieve from Rose’s whims, for soon the physician came calling again, and Jane was fitted with a pair of oval spectacles. In the many tests she had been subjected to, one of them had been for her eyes, and she marveled at how clear the world around her became. The Lord had never bothered to give her any sort of medical attention, even when she was sick, so to have someone give her something as precious as a set of spectacles was mind-boggling. Next the tailor came, and after a brief exchange with both Rose and Kanaya, presented Jane with two sets of clothes. The first was strictly for day-wear and consisted of a long skirt as blue as the sky and a high-collared shirt as white as a cloud, over which a dark blue bodice went. These were a bit old fashioned as far as the times were, but Jane felt she could stand a little straighter with it on, and she liked it fine. The second set was much more unusual. There was another shirt with a high collar, this one a sandy beige, and with it was paired a set of olive breeches. For both she had  a set of white stockings and soft, dark brown shoes.

“These are for the war march and for training,” Rose told her as Jane examined the odd clothes, “I instructed the tailor to make a waistcoat for it as well, but that will not come until next week. There are some embellishments that need to be made.”

“Embellishments?” Jane asked. Rose smirked.

“Think of them as armor. They will be a symbol of your fealty to me, and keep you from being badly hurt. If only for my sake, of course.”

“Oh. So, they will be a sort of code?”

“Well, yes, if you want to be plain about it. It’s a symbolic code.”

“Aah.” What else could Jane say? What little she knew of the ways of the nobles and royals was already ridiculous. Duels and symbols all sounded like unnecessary secrecy and violence. Who needed it? But it was the world Jane had entered, and it was the one she would have to remain in if she wanted to have any chance at even seeing Jake again, much less save him.

It was late in the afternoon when Kanaya came to collect Jane. She claimed that it was a lovely time for a stroll, but there was a hesitance to her movements and a woodenness to her smile that made Jane suspicious. Rose did not seem perturbed by it at all, and wished them well on their outing. By now even her hostess’s cheerful disposition gave Jane reason to be wary, and when they were well out of earshot of the house, Jane whispered, “Kanaya, what exactly did we go on a stroll for?” When an answer did not come, she asked, “Is something wrong?”

Kanaya shook her head, but that did little to lift her unease. “Not at all. I just dislike where we are going to take our stroll with a fierce intensity. It does not give off good ‘vibes’,” She said, adding air quotes to the last word. “It is, however, the best place to obtain a weapon that will fit your needs. Requesting something custom made by even the best of blacksmiths would take far too long, and you need something straight away.”

“So it is an armament shop?” Jane asked

“Not…exactly.”

Their pace was brisk as they walked through the city. They had come out to the main road where the market was and followed it down, down the capital of Derse until the buildings became shabbier and the wares more bedraggled. Dirty merchants glared out from their stands; some turned the least rotten sides of their fruits towards the road, and others covered up nibbled holes in clothes and rugs with ripples and folds. Kanaya hurried Jane past them, never sparing them a glance.

Finally, when the road was more gaping holes than smooth stones, Kanaya turned off the main road and into a dark alleyway, where the ground sloped down and down, where scratches and faded paint marred the walls in color and despair. Jane followed hurriedly behind, her glances sparse. She had never been here before, and it scared her to death, for what lurked here was not afraid to reach out and snatch ladies away in the rain. Here the buildings had no doors save for ragged cloth, and naught but shattered glass in their windows. The alley twisted and turned, the air turning sour the deeper they went, until it reached a dead end by the capital’s walls. There, they found a little stone hovel, moss and ivy creeping up its sides and a curtain of seashells hanging from its door. As they approached, a grey hand reached out and pushed the shells aside, and a face emerged. It was all angles and fins, sharp teeth and eyes as white as the moon that sent a familiar shiver down Jane’s spine.

“Whale, whale, _whale_ ,” Said the hovel’s troll, leaning on the doorframe. She wore damp, ragged clothes and no shoes, and he had several long braids that trailed down to the ground. “If I’d a known I had to entertain society today, I woulda cleaned up the hive.”

Kanaya had wrinkled her nose upon seeing the troll, but she curtsied all the same. “My apologies. I did not think it necessary to announce ourselves.” The hovel troll cackled, the sound making Kanaya stiffen.

“Yeah, yeah, don’t get your seaweed in a bunch. I know why you’re here.” She leaned back and held the shell curtain back again. “Why does anybody ever come to see poor little Meenah? They want the goods what make stabs happen!” She turned her sharklike grin to Jane. “Know what I’m glubbin’, guppy?” When Jane stared at her with wide eyes as an answer, the troll named Meenah cackled again. “C’mon in, lemme see what I can hook a gill up with.” Kanaya and Jane looked at each other before they followed her inside, picking their way over tiny bones and dirty rags.

The hovel – or hive, as Meenah insistently called it – was small and smelt of saltwater, and rusted weaponry hung on the walls, presumably wares that had deteriorated before she could sell them proper. Along the walls sat dull, wooden chests with keyholes, and Meenah made for them, pulling a jingling ring of keys from her rags.

“So whatchu lookin’ for, huh?” She asked, popping open chest after chest. “Pistols? Blades? I got me some blades only a suckerfish would turn down. Who’s it for?”

“Um.” Jane took a step forward. “I-It’s for me.”

Meenah’s gaze whipped back towards Jane, and in seconds she was in the girl’s personal space, tilting her chin and examining her arms and hands. “You don’t look like you was built for scrappin’, guppy,” She said, “Too soft!” And she pinched Jane’s arm.

“Ow! Hey!” Jane pulled her arm back and frowned at their laughing hostess.

“Ooh! You got some bite to you!” She said, “I like that a lot!” She turned back to the chests. “Pretty with a bite…I think I got somefin like that.” Jane rubbed at the red mark from Meenah’s pinch, and Kanaya slowly inched towards her.

After a bit of rummaging, Meenah flounced back, a beautiful weapon in her hands. It was a small trident that could be held in one hand and fenced with, like a sword, and it shone gold in what little light filtered into the hovel. Its three tines had been sharpened to a fine and deadly point, and a beautiful blue stone had been set in the hilt; it looked like what Jane imagined the sea would look like, sky blue with ribbons of foam on the crests of waves.

“It’s steel,” Meenah said quickly, “Real gold wouldn’t hold up in a scrap, they just tempered it pretty. Prospit’s smart like that.”

“This is from Prospit?” Jane asked incredulously. Meenah nodded, her eyes crinkling with mischief.

“Ever hear a that crumple hat scuffle?” She asked. Jane could feel Kanaya stiffen next to her. “All that confusion, anybuoy could just sneak in and bring back a haul! So that’s what I did. Already sold off everyfin but this.” She held the handle out to Jane. “Dunno why they were keepin’ a beauty like this locked away. Looks fit for a queen! Give it a try.”

Hesitantly, Jane reached out and took it in her hands. The hilt was cold and strange in her hands, but the weight of the trident reminded her of the weight of a mixing spoon, in a way. The longer she held it, the bigger Meenah’s smile grew.

“Makes you wanna poke some holes in a motherglubber for the halibut, don’t it?” She asked. “ _Mmm_ -hm, I like you holdin’ that. You should take that.”

“Hold on just a moment!” Kanaya burst forward, the glow from her skin flaring briefly in warning. “You’re going to shove stolen goods into our possession?”

“Gill, if that ain’t what you wanted, you shouldn’t a come to my hive,” Meenah said. “’Sides, look at that guppy. She probably never held somefin so pretty.”

It was true. Besides her pendant, Jane had never gotten to grasp something so nice that could be _hers_. It would take some getting used to, handling this thing, but there was part of Jane that thought she could do it, that wanted to do it. Being dragged into war and danger be damned – if she had this, she could beat back an entire army and rip Jake from its ranks. It was a silly thought, and very foolish in hindsight, but it made her grip the hilt tighter, until it felt like it fit into her hand.

“How much?” Jane asked, her question ceasing the trolls’ bickering. When she received no answer, she asked again, “How much for the trident?”

“Uh…” Meenah looked from Kanaya to Jane. “How much you willin’ to shell out?”

With a huff, Kanaya revealed a wallet, and handed the troll a stack of crisp, expensive bills. Meenah hummed and counted them, flipping through with nimble fingers. “I hope that will suffice,” Kanaya said.

“Eh. It’ll do.” Meenah reached into her rags again and pulled out a pink clamshell wallet. The money was stuffed unceremoniously inside. “I’d ask for more, but the guppy looks like a wriggler on 12th Perigee’s. Shit’s mad adorbs, yo.” She closed her walled with a click and reached behind her, tossing a scabbard and a bundle of less dirty rags at Kanaya, who caught them with a fumble and a perturbed expression. “You betta hide your loot, sweetfish. Thieves flock to gaudy shit like that. I should know.”

Jane was ignorant to these words until Kanaya came and took the trident, sheathing it and wrapping it up before putting it in Jane’s hands again. She let out a cry of surprise, but did not protest, and soon they were out the door, their mysterious supplier leaning against the doorframe as she had before. Just as they turned down a bend in the alleyway, Jane swore she heard the troll call out to her.

“I’ll be lookin’ forward to sea-in that piece of work in action, guppy! Betta not let me down!”

~*~

Their return to the townhouse was quiet. When they finally came through the door, Rose was eager to examine Jane’s weapon, and her eyebrows shot up in surprise at the trident.

“Interesting choice,” She said, and her mouth curled into a smile as she let it shine in the light. “Although I feel as if you’ve painted a bullseye on yourself by picking this. It _looks_ like gold, and it’s a very regal weapon. It’s a guarantee that you’ll be flocked to.”

Jane lowered her head. She hadn’t thought of how conspicuous it looked. “I’m sorry.”

Rose hummed. “Don’t apologize. You will simply have to make up for appearances with your actions.” She handed it back to Jane. “We should begin your training at once. You’re already very polite, so I think we can forego most of the etiquette protocol.”

That night, and many afterwards, were spent with the parlor furniture pushed back to the walls, with the heavy trident in Jane’s hand and the press of Rose’s cold rapier to her body. “Shoulders back,” Rose would command often, “Back straight, knees bent – not _rigid_ , Jane, presume you are to move at a moment’s notice. Eyes on me. There will be spectators and they will jeer for your attention, but you must show discipline. Meet no gaze but that of your opponent.”

“Yes,” Jane would stammer, because that was all she could think of to say. There were no apologies in training.

The winter dwindled quickly, the days a haze of deep sleep and ridiculously fancy little meals and the press of that ocean stone into Jane’s palm. She would thumb the indentation at night, pressing on it and shivering at the dull pain like a morbid curiosity. Improvement was a slow and slippery slope, but by the evening before spring, Jane had one thing down perfectly – the opening stance. She could even pretend to look confident and brave while in it, but after that, all bets were off. It was goofy grimace after funny face as she tried to dodge and parry, always getting her trident knocked from her hand, always feeling the sting of Rose’s rapier on her wrist. When it moved away for the last time, Jane almost wanted to reach back and take it. No lord’s weapon would be as patient as that rapier.

Kanaya herded her into bed early that night, but while the moon hung overhead, Jane could not bring herself to fall asleep. There was a foreign thrum in her blood, and her pendant felt heavy on her chest. It had occurred to her that, on this war march, it was very likely that she would be in proximity with the Crown Prince of Derse – not terribly close proximity, of course, but given Rose’s station and her new identity, thinking that she wouldn’t be in the same room as him at least once would be foolish. The thought made her feverish with the Madame’s stories, and though she tried to push them out of her mind, they were stubborn and bright, filled with a pearly pink happiness.

By the time Jane had managed to doze off, she was being roused from bed to prepare for the war march. Half dead, she stood limp and still as Kanaya helped her into her clothes. The waistcoat had indeed come, and it was a lovely thing, made of soft tanned skin and fitted with bone in the torso so it would operate much like a bodice without looking like one. It was fitted with a hood and two tails that fluttered elegantly behind, and in the center where it snapped together, a blood red rose had been embroidered, ensnared in green vines. It felt like a brand on her stomach, an indelible mark that shouted to all that Jane was the property of the Duchess of Lalonde, and one best think twice before laying a hand on her.

The start of the march was not too far from the townhouse, so Rose led the way through the darkened streets. Noble caravans had been brought into position along the main road, the lowest-ranked lady at the front and the Royal Caravan at the back, closest to the palace. Between each one, regiments and ranks had come into place, each sporting the colors of their commander, troll and human and man and woman mingling with armaments and armor and tired, eager smiles. Jane tried to look for Jake in the throng, but her eyes could barely stay open, and she hoped they would retreat to wherever their caravan was so she could sleep. When she brought this up to Rose, her host’s brow knitted together.

“Sleep? Oh, no, we won’t be sleeping until nightfall. I doubt we’ll even be out of the capitol by noon. The Lords and Ladies all dine together before the war march, you see, and then we take our positions, and the people gather, and everyone makes speeches as we crawl down the road. It’s quite the procession.” Jane’s subsequent groan made Rose and Kanaya laugh, but Jane could not see anything funny about it.

As soon as they reach the palace gate, guardsmen flocked around them and ushered the three ladies inside. Through the exhaustion, Jane felt an inkling of amusement at her position. Here she was, the princess of this kingdom’s sworn enemy, and she was being escorted into their palace! She almost had enough energy to smile about it.

Inside the gates was a courtyard, and off to the side were the buildings for the lessons pages received. Jake had told her about them before, and they were just as boring and sad as he had described. The only difference in them today was that the benches had been pushed aside, and a long dining table had been placed and set for eleven, five on each side and one at the far head. It was here that Kanaya excused herself, and Jane lost her in the crowd of servants as Rose pulled her over to the table.

“Customarily, ladies and lords in waiting sit at the ends of the sides,” Rose explained, and she gently guided Jane into a chair. “The closer to the occupied head, the higher your rank. I’ve got to sit up near the Prince, so I can’t help you navigate around any pitfalls the others might throw your way, but Kanaya will keep an eye on you and help whenever she can. The lower lord and lady aren’t too tricky, either, unless they want to be. You should be fine.” She paused, and looked towards the head. “But whatever you do, please. Don’t speak out of turn.”

Jane nodded meekly, and she watched as Rose left her to her lonely end of the table. With a sigh, she slipped her hands underneath her glasses and pressed her palms to her eyes. She was so tired. Just thinking about all that was yet to come made her want to crawl under the table and sleep breakfast away.

“Oh, no, don’t tell me you’re crying already!”

It was then that Jane felt a light hand on her shoulder, and she jumped, her head jerking up to see who had touched her. At first, the shape of the horns brought back memories of haunted, white eyes and harsh commands, but the eyes looking at her were filled with yellow and maroon, and the face was soft and dimpled, not gaunt and irritated. It was a troll looking at Jane, and she beamed spectacularly upon seeing her face.

“You’re okay, right?” The troll asked, and before Jane could answer, she slipped into the chair next to her, one rung higher in nobility. “It wouldn’t be fun to have someone new if they chickened out before anything happened. Don’t you think so, Sollux?” She looked across the table, where a troll with red and blue spectacles sat down. No – if Jane looked closer, she could tell that one of his eyes was actually red, while the other was blue.

“AA, you are going to thcare her off more than the carnage ith,” He said, but with a funny little smile, like his words were only meant in jest. The maroon troll laughed.

“I’m just being friendly!” She said, and she turned back to Jane again, this time holding out her hand. “You’re Rose’s new lady thing, right? I’m Aradia Megido.”

“Er…” While Jane did not like being called a ‘lady thing’ under any circumstances, she took Aradia’s hand regardless. “Nice to meet you. I’m Jane.”

“Lady Jane!” Aradia said, she gave Jane a good, hard shake. “I like how that sounds! Don’t you, Sollux?”

“No. Human nameth don’t have enough thyllableth.” Aradia laughed again, and it was very clear now that this Sollux was something of a party pooper out of sport. Jane would have laughed, too, if she wasn’t so nervous, and if this friendly troll did not remind her so strongly of her former mistress.

Aradia seemed as if she wanted to talk Jane’s ear off, but more trolls were entering the room, and the first two became shockingly silent in their presence. Jane peered at them with some trepidation. There was a troll in royal blue that cut a right intimidating form when he sat next to Sollux, the latter of which grimaced and leaned away. A troll in a violet cape was coerced into sitting next to Aradia by another troll decked out in fuschia, both sporting magnificent fins. The fuschia one in particular smiled toothily down the table at Jane, and she unconsciously brought a hand to the trident at her side. She thought of a salty, mossy hovel. It was too eerie, but would anyone believe her if she said something?

The fuschia troll sat comfortably next to Rose, who looked frightfully bored, and only lifted her head when a fair boy in red and mail strode in, the spectacles on his face black and round. He was casual and calm, but something in his stride reminded Jane of Sir Dirk.

“Sup, peers of the realm?” He said, giving a lazy salute. Aradia perked up next to her, but the other trolls did not seem as enthused.

“Dave, Dave! Have you met Lady Jane yet?” Jane could practically feel the erratic and excited gestures made in her direction. The royal blue troll scoffed.

“You are out of line with your language, Megido,” He said, and if Jane didn’t know better, she’d think he was sweating.

“Oh, hush, Equius. Dave and I are _Time Buddies._ ”

“Hells yeah we are,” Dave said, and he approached with a fist outstretched. Aradia leaned over and their knuckles bumped, the two sporting smiles of disproportionate magnitude, yet equal mirth. “Glad you could make it, Time Buddy, it wouldn’t be a war march without you.” His face then turned to Jane, and she could feel his gaze pin her down. “And no, I haven’t had the pleasure. Sup?” He turned his fist to her, and – well, what else was she supposed to do? – she hesitantly bumped knuckles. His smile faded. “Aw man, that was weak, but you’re probably not used to the awesome greetings of the upper class yet. I’ll let it slide.” He drew his hand back and turned to look behind him. “You’re not having fun without a talking buddy at your rank, right? Hold on, I had somebody behind me, but he can’t keep his head on straight for two seconds. It’s like herding a cat to a bath.”

“Uh,” Jane said in response.

“He’s not even a cat person,” Dave continued, oblivious to any concern she might have. “He’s told me as much like, five times. The first time was okay, you know, because I had asked him, dude, do you like cats? But no, he just has to bring it up in relation to every animal. Don’t know what my Bro sees in the guy. I wouldn’t even keep him around if not for-”

“Miss Jane?”

There was a figure in the doorway to the hall – a familiar figure, with familiar square spectacles and familiar holstered pistols on his hips. Jane stood up from her seat at the sight of him.

“Jake…?” She asked, mostly to herself. Dave whirled around to look behind him and sighed.

“ _There_ you are. What kept you, English? Today’s your big debut, and you’re playing coy already?”

“Er-” Jake ripped his gaze from Jane, and it hurt, not to look him in the eye. “Yes! Well, you’re quite right, Sir Dave! It’s just, I hadn’t expected to see Miss Jane here!”

He made no sign to let Jane know that he was okay, no motion or gesture to reassure her fears. Whatever had affected him in the Lord’s kitchen still had a grip on him, Jane was sure of it, and while it was a relief to see him alive and whole, it put a new fear in Jane’s head. She had to be doubly sure not to trip herself up in front of everybody, with Jake here. She would not be able to shake him out of this state – at least, not now. She was about to speak, perhaps to remark on expectations herself, when someone else came in and did it for her.

“Hell, English, neither did I, but man, I am not disappointed in the least.”

For an instant the room erupted into scraping and shuffling, and as Jane looked around, she saw that all the trolls, and Jake, and even Rose and this Sir Dave had all dropped to one knee as if it were natural. Another figure strolled in, clad in burgundy and face obscured by triangular spectacles. The face was impassive, the stance solid. Jane felt the phantom brush of fingertips on her own.

“Sir…Sir Dirk?” She ventured. There were a few hisses behind her, incomprehensible to her ears. Dirk cleared his throat.

“Not so much Sir as Prince in my house, Miss Jane,” He said, and a terrible heat flooded Jane’s body. She gripped her chair and tried not to show that her legs were wobbling as he said, “I guess nobody clued you in on that, right? So I’ll let it slide.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now that all the old material from Tumblr is up, it's all new stuff from here! I'll get on editing Chapter 5 as soon as I can.


	5. Maids

The Lord never appeared at the table for the breakfast. It was for the best. If faced with his eyes, who knows what Jane would have done - but even without him, the meal was difficult. Seeing Dirk here, knowing who he was and what he stood for, had taken what was once mild irritation and curiosity and turned it into something burning and foreign and barely controllable. When she closed her eyes she saw pearly pink, and when conversation lulled she heard her Madame whispering in her ear as clear as day: _Kiss him, claim him, save him, Jane, and you save everyone_. But these were not her thoughts. They had come on too quickly and too strongly to come from her heart, of that Jane was certain. They frightened her though, frightened her more than the Lord and the prospect of duels and the trolls with faces matching dead-eyed counterparts and Jake, oblivious to all, cheerful and chatty right across the table. She wanted to hide away from everyone until the feelings abated, but she knew that was not allowed. She had to stay and grit her teeth through the breakfast. She had to show face. And show face she would, even if she could barely look anyone in the eye.

The pleasure of sitting with what seemed to be the chattiest of Derse’s ladies was the bane of Jane’s experience. Yes, Aradia herself was very lively and jovial, and would have made a wonderful companion during those lonely days in the service of the Lord, but her curious pestering was a knife in Jane’s heart. She wanted to know where Jane had come from, what she used to do before she met Rose, what her family was like. It was hard to answer truthfully, especially when Jake could hear any slip-up she might make and refute it with his addled memories.

“You worked in Lord Caliborn’s house and _left_ , just like that?” Aradia asked, surprised, when Jane made mention of it. Her eyes had widened immensely. “Oh wow, that does explain a lot! He’s been really harsh and grouchy all winter!”

“Has he?” Jane asked, her eyes looking towards the empty chair near the end of the table. She tried not to turn her gaze to Dirk instead.

“Oh, yes! Every lesson in Time he’s given since has ended in him breaking a few tables. Me and Dave have to study on our own to make up for all the time he spends throwing tantrums.” After a quick look around, Aradia snickered. “They’re terrifying to watch, but really funny to think about later. He’s supposed to be eons old, right? But he acts like a little kid!” She leaned closer, her mouth curled into a mischievous grin. “He’s probably worse at home, right? You can tell me!”

“Uh…” Jane did not think it was safe to tell anyone of the Lord’s ‘tantrums’, whether he was here or not. To her they were not merely exclamations of a petulant man, but frightening outbursts of power. A few broken tables sounded like a slap on the wrist to what she had seen. She tried to smile back. “Oh, I – they weren’t nearly as interesting as you seem to think. Besides, I, um…I’d much rather hear you speak about those lessons in Time? I haven’t taken up an Art myself, so I don’t know much about them.”

Aradia gave Jane a strange look at her aversion, but she hummed and tilted her head. “You haven’t picked one yet?”

“Well, no.”

And just like that, Aradia lit up again. “Do you think you would consider Time? I know you’re still learning under Rose, and maybe she’d want you to learn Light, but Time is really useful! If anything, you’re never late to meetings unless you absolutely HAVE to be. I’ve even heard of people time-traveling before! But that’s really tricky, you’ve got to keep the timeline intact or you start creating offshoots and-”

This led Aradia into a long and excited discussion of the nature of timelines; she was very animated as she spoke, with quick, grand gestures and a bright smile. Jane had a hard time following it – anyone would, if they did not already speak the language of Time. From what she could gather, Time was not linear, for it looped and tangled with offshoots where events overlapped, and that was enough for her to know that it was much too complicated for her. It was still the perfect way to keep the conversation off of herself, though, and that put Jane at ease. It was a distraction from the little voice in her head, and from Jake’s beaming, and from the stares of the other lords and ladies present. Aradia was still going by the time the breakfast had been cleared from the table, and as the others began to rise to head to the caravans, she insisted they continue their conversation when they had some time on the march.

“Oh! Um, sure?” Jane said, and she got a vigorous handshake for her answer.

“Wonderful! I’ll look forward to it.” Aradia’s grip was tight. “I’ll bring some books on the Arts, if you’d like to know a bit about them!”

“That would be nice! Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it!” Finally, Aradia let go, and she inclined her head respectfully. Jane curtsied in return, forgetting for a moment that she did not have a skirt to do so. She must have looked ridiculous, for Aradia giggled before she left, and soon Jane too found herself leaving the room, led by a cool hand on her elbow. When she looked, she saw it was Kanaya who guided her.

“Did I do okay?” Jane asked, her voice a whisper. Kanaya nodded.

“Excellent. I would have intervened if you were in trouble, but you seemed to catch a stroke of luck with Lady Megido. She is a very good start for you, and a very good friend to have on your side.” The two walked quickly across the courtyard, for the guards about the area seemed anxious to get the march started. “She is not very high in rank, but she can raise anyone’s spirit. We shall need that many times, of that I am certain.”

“Why is she not highly ranked?” Jane asked as they passed through the gate, “She’s a noble, just like the others.”

Kanaya nodded sagely and hummed. “That would be the matter of the hemospectrum. It is an ancient troll caste system. In Prospit, it was abolished as old-fashioned and cruel long before I was hatched, but from what I’ve observed here, the Lord has kept it alive enough to perpetuate some prejudices”

“But whatever is it based on?” Jane asked. They had come around to the front of the royal caravan by now, and before them stood a long line of soldiers and smaller caravans, everyone readying the final touches of the march. Kanaya looked at her queerly, and then she brought her thumb to her mouth. With a soft grunt, she bit the finger, and Jane cried out in shock. “What are you doing?!”

Kanaya did not respond until she could show Jane her thumb. Instead of blood, something thick and vibrant green dripped from the puncture. “Hemospectrum,” Kanaya repeated, “is in relation to the spectrum of blood that trolls can have. It is colored along the lines of the rainbow.” She casually licked her thumb. “The redder you are, the lower caste you are, and the closer you get to the blues and purple, the opposite is true. Why, violet blood and up are seadwelling trolls. There was a lord and lady at the table who represented them.”

Jane shook her head. “What a silly thing to base a society on,” She said, “I can hardly believe it.” Kanaya smiled, and, with her uninjured hand, she led Jane inside the caravan.

“Oh, there was more to it than that. But don’t worry. You are not a troll. They will not expect you to play by those rules.”

The caravan was nothing like Jane had expected. It was grand, with luxurious furniture and paintings on every wall, but everything was worn in some way. The cushions of the sofas were threadbare (or, perhaps, as threadbare as they were allowed to be while owned by royalty), and the paintings had faded and cracked; the bookcases were fitted with bars to keep the books from falling out, the wood mismatched in size and color. Every piece of furniture had been nailed down to the walls, so the middle of the room was a wide space in which to move. There were blankets and pillows to spare, piled in corners and stacked haphazardly, and at the far end a set of cabinets had been assembled, probably filled with provisions that would not go sour easily. On the right and against the wall two ladders had been set, with openings above.

Rose had slinked inside before them, and she smiled at Jane and Kanaya from one of the couches. She had an open book in her hands. “Ah, you’ve arrived.”

“Did we keep you waiting, My Lady?” Kanaya asked. Rose shook her head.

“Not long. The boys have already retreated upstairs to preen, though. They should be coming down again soon.” At this mention, Jane felt a spike of heat in her stomach, and she was grateful for Kanaya’s steadying hand on her elbow.

“So they will come down the ladder still preening each other?” Kanaya asked with a smirk. “I cannot imagine how they will manage it.”

“Seeing as how they used to do it while climbing down trees as children, it shouldn’t pose too much of a problem.” Rose took a hairpin from behind her ear and placed it in her book before she closed it, and looked to Jane. “Sit next to me for a moment, you look ready to faint. Are you nervous?”

“Uh…I don’t know,” Jane admitted. Kanaya brought her to the couch and made sure she was comfortable – most likely in case she really did faint – before she perched on the arm of the couch. “I can’t seem to think straight.”

“Hmmm.” Casually, Rose leaned over and pressed the back of her hand to Jane’s forehead. “You feel a bit warm. I hate to say it, but even if you are ill, you cannot be excused from marching with the rest of us. The others will tear you apart for it. Do you think you can make it through the capitol at least?”

“I don’t think I’m sick,” Jane said, but before she could explain exactly how she felt, there was a clamor from one of the ladders, and down it came Sir Dave, one hand on the rungs and another reaching up to fix something they could not see. His red and mail had been exchanged for a purple waistcoat and slacks, and his blackened spectacles hung closed on the collar of his shirt. He looked surprisingly young without them, the skin around his funny red eyes still smooth and clear.

“Oh my God, Bro, seriously, don’t do this shit. You’re not gonna see him until we get to the outer wall, you don’t have to primp your feathers yet.” He reached up again. “And stop cuffing your pants, dude, you look like a douchebag.” Rose coughed, and he turned his attention to the ladies. He jumped, and his face balked in surprise. That was the most emotion Jane had ever seen on either prince. “Holy shit, when did you get here?”

“Does it matter when we’re already here?” Rose hid her smirk behind her hand as Dave fumbled for his spectacles. He took a deep breath, and his face relaxed into indifference. “You needn’t put on appearances just for us, dear cousin. It only feeds into that complex of yours.”

Dave groaned. “Nope, not gonna let you ruin today with your psycho-brain babble, Lalonde. We’ve gotta be at the top of our fucking games.” The ladder creaked above him, and he scrambled down, watching as his brother descended. While Jane felt her heart leap into her throat, Dave wrinkled his nose. “Ew, Bro, the cuffed pants. I told you no.”

“And I decided to cuff ‘em anyway,” Dirk said. His clothes were a perfect mirror to Dave’s, except a silver circlet rested atop his head. In its center a fiery gem had been placed, and he ran a thumb underneath it, as if it itched. “I’m not marching up to Prospit in muddy pants, Dave. Wouldn’t do to charge in looking like I spent the day in a pig pen. Is that intimidating?” He turned to the ladies. “Is it? Would you be scared of some dirty schmuck?”

It would have been harder to focus of Jane could see just where Dirk had set his gaze, but for once his hidden eyes were a boon. She took a sharp breath and said, “I think it…it would depend. On what the dirty man was doing, I mean.” There was a pause, and she lowered her gaze to her lap. Every bit of her was trembling and warm. “Y-Your Majesty.”

There was a pause, and the creak of the floorboards, and suddenly Dirk had kneeled before her. His hand came up and rested on her forehead, much like Rose’s had done, and at the touch, Jane felt every bit of her go white-hot and weak. She struggled to keep her eyes open, to stay upright, but she knew she was swaying. When the hand was gone, the heat lessened, and she blinked rapidly, but nothing came into focus. There was talking going on; she had missed some of it.

“-Can’t send her out like this, you know better.”

“Oh? And what will come of it but a pack of irritable trolls and a Cherub Lord at her heels? I can’t fight her battles for her.”

“Have a little faith in your lady-in-waiting, Rose. For fuck’s sake, you wouldn’t have kept her on if she couldn’t bite back.” A pair of arms wrapped around her, and though she could not see who, she knew that someone had picked her up. She let out a cry of surprise, but no one took heed. “She’s going to bed until we make camp for the night. That’s a royal fucking decree. You feel like stumbling through that kind of red tape?”

There was a sniff. “Do as you please, Your Majesty.”

Jane was moving away from the couch, away and upwards, and she clung to her holder and whimpered. Under the emotions and heat she felt a mild fear, dreading Rose’s scathe and whatever the Lords and Ladies would have in store for her when she showed her face again. The jolt of being laid in a soft bed was what brought her sight back, and she rubbed at her eyes to make sure it was still there. Above her head, Dirk looked down at her, and she had to still herself to keep from rolling over and huddling into a ball. These feelings were wonderful and awful at the same time, and she wanted to cut them out of her body just so things could make sense again.

“Y-Your Majesty,” She managed to say. She would have said more – apologized for needing to be carried, blurted out her predicament – but he sighed, and reached up to pull off the circlet from his brow. Its stone had left a reddish mark on his forehead.

“You’re really freaked out about this, huh?” He asked. Jane did not know how to answer him; she was too afraid she would let something slip. “Hey, look. You’re not the only one who’s scared to go to war. Exhibit A: Dave’s talking tough, but he wants to shit his pants.” He ran a hand through his hair almost too casually. “I’ll kick his ass to kingdom come if he does, though. There’s only so much that you can put a servant through, and trust me when I say that they draw the line at crap-encrusted pantaloons by the time you reach the age of three. Also? That shit just ain’t cool.”

His words were ridiculous, and Jane let out a laugh in spite of herself. She liked her laugh – it was strong and came right up from the chest, a “Hoo hoo hoo” that could echo merrily or titter quietly, depending on her mood. Her reaction seemed to ease the prince, who sunk down to his heels to bring himself to her level. Eventually, her laughter subsided, and she found she could breathe a little easier, though the feelings had not subsided.

“I can still march,” Jane said at last, every word an effort. “I can still-”

“Oh no you don’t. I was serious about that royal decree thing.” The joking was gone from his tone. “I can feel you burning up without even touching you. It’s barely spring, it’s still cold outside, and we’re all going to be doing a slow march along the road so everybody can get their crappy speeches in. Believe me, if someone said I could skip all that, I would do it in a heartbeat.”

“But, the lords and ladies-”

“-They’ll have to deal with it.” Dirk shrugged. “We’ve all got to deal sometimes. You and Rose both need to chill out and remember that. Okay?”

Jane nodded hesitantly, and that seemed to be enough of an answer for Dirk, for he rose to his feet and started for the ladder. With every step he took, a little bit of sense came back to her mind, and just as he was about to descend, she cleared her throat. “Thank you, Your Majesty,” she said, and he paused. His head turned just slightly towards her, enough for him to see her out of the corner of his eye.

“Miss Jane?”

“Yes?”

“Remember what I said before? About being less Sir and more Prince in my house?”

Jane sat up. “I do.”

Dirk gestured to the loft. “We’re not in my house.”

“Well, no,” Jane said, her eyes narrowing in confusion. “We’re in your caravan, Your Majesty.”

“Yeah. They’re not the same thing.” He turned a bit more to look her in the eye, and Jane’s heart hammered in her chest. “To add to that, is there anybody around who cares whether or not you call me Sir or Prince or anything?”

This made Jane pause, and the feelings inside of her stilled, becoming a quivering force of anticipation. “Wouldn’t – wouldn’t _you_ care?”

“I care when people pussyfoot around me because of the fancy title stamped across my forehead.” Dirk turned away from her, and with a careful touch, he fitted his circled back onto his head. “Don’t tell me you’re going to be like everyone else out there. I thought you had promise. I thought you wouldn’t roll over like a lapdog.”

It was as if his harsh words were magic, for with them the hot feelings and whispers withdrew, and Jane frowned. He was challenging her.

“I can assure you that I am no lapdog, _Dirk,_ ” She said. The name on her lips felt too close and very wrong, but by gum she would take this bull by its horns and ride it into the sunset if she had to. He did not seem to react at all.

“Alright, then. Keep proving it, Miss Jane.” And with that he descended, leaving Jane alone to blissful peace. The bed, she realized, was impossibly cool, and she found herself under the blankets immediately, taking a moment to revel in the feeling of comfort.

When she was sufficiently cozy, Jane’s thoughts immediately latched onto the words that had broken the fervor in her mind. What about them had brought her to her senses? She would kiss Dirk for saying them, if she did not fear a relapse. No, it would be unwise to continue on in such a state. But what had been in these words that had helped, and how could she recreate it herself?

“Let’s see…” Jane said to herself. She kept her voice soft, on the chance that someone below might hear her. “He was definitely goading me into dropping formalities. It was…irritating. He’s irritating.” _He’s also handsome_ , a little voice whispered in her mind, and she batted it away, determined to keep it and the feelings that crashed in its wake at bay. “Nobody expects a prince to be irritating. They expect everyone else to be irritating, but not him.” She pulled the blankets closer around her. “They don’t expect him to be…crude, either. His joke was rather crude.”

_But you laughed at it_ , the voice said.

“Oh, hush, for goodness sake,” Jane told it.

Even as the caravan jolted and came to life, its movement was slow and creaking, and it did not deter Jane from her pondering. The cheers of the Dersite throngs and the speeches of their exalted were muffled by the walls around her, but if her mind was at relative peace, she could think, and she could put the pieces of her predicament together. One did not stay a maid in the House of Lords for eight years without having an eye for detail, be it used for discerning the shine of brass or picking up the cues of conversation. Whenever the Prince did something that seemed un-princely, the feelings had abated, as if shocked that his mere presence could still summon them after his actions. They had not been a problem when Jane did not know him as a Prince, either, but they were stronger than a simple case of embarrassment and fear in the presence of a ruler. If they were truly hers – if they were an attraction of sorts – they would have been there from the very beginning.

Even with the Madame’s stories in her head, even with her girlhood wishes, Jane could not accept that anyone could fall head-over-heels with someone they’ve only met twice and hadn’t gotten to know. Sure, there were books where love at first sight prevailed, and she supposed that, in another time and place, trolls and cherubs and Esoteric Arts would be seen as flights of fancy. But this was her reality, and in reality, no one had a love like that, not even a princess, and she would lose her head if she let these false emotions get the best of her. Jake’s life and mind were on the line. Rose and Kanaya could get in serious trouble too, if their assistance was discovered. She had to find a way to fight it.

“…Whenever he is not a prince to me, I can think clearly,” Jane said. The words came softly out of the abyss of her mind, and she perked up at them. “Oh! Oh, that’s it! I just can’t think of him as a prince!”

_You’d deny who he is?_ The voice asked. Jane frowned deeply and tried not to shiver. It really did sound like her Madame, sweet and funny and soothing, and that’s what made it frightening.

“‘Prince’ is a title,” She said aloud, taking care not to let her voice waver, “And a title is not all that one can be. He is more than his station, I just…don’t know much beyond it.”

It was not much, but it was a resolve that she could hold onto, and with it came pure exhaustion. Jane found herself falling into a deep sleep, lulled by the rocking of the caravan.

~*~

The lofts above the main part of the caravan had one window each, and two beds in each, all bolted down the same as the furniture below. The room itself was plain, but it was comfortable, and each bed had been fitted with crisp, white sheets. When Jane woke, it was relatively dim, but the sky was acres of clear blue, and-

There was a head sticking up into the loft. A head with bushy black hair, and curled horns the color of candy corns. Jane squeaked and toppled out of the bed in surprise. The head laughed.

“Oh wow, I guess I should’ve knocked, huh? Sorry!”

It was Aradia, of course, and she scrambled up into the loft with a heavy bag in her arms. Before Jane could right herself, the troll was taking out book after book after book and laying them carefully out on the floor. She was decked out in black with a waistcoat of rich maroon, and a white cravat had been tied around her neck, a funny symbol stitched onto it with tiny bits of red coral. She must have dressed for the march since the last time Jane had seen her.

“Erm…not that it’s not wonderful to see you, Lady Megido,” She began, “But what on earth are you doing here in the first place?”

“Visiting you of course!” Aradia said. “Dave said it was okay, and that you might want something to do if you’re still not feeling well.” Jane winced at that last bit.

“How long have I been missed, exactly?”

“All morning!” Aradia’s grin was huge. “Lord Caliborn flipped one of the cavalry when he found out you were here, he literally grabbed a horse by the leg and-” Aradia made an upwards motion with her hands. “BAM! It figures he would be the reason for the first casualty.”

Just the mention of the Lord sent icy fear through Jane’s heart. She pitied anyone on the receiving end of his fury. “Oh my God…the cavalryman didn’t die, did he? Or the horse?”

“What? No, they were just injured…” With a sigh, Aradia leaned forward and propped her head in her hands. “But wouldn’t it have been great if they did? We could’ve done a march burial.” Her tone was calm, as if the desire to see death was a natural feeling. “I’ve never gotten to see one for myself. Apparently you go out the old troll way, you’re just left out in the sun to rot.”

It would be in bad taste to shriek and back away, Jane had to tell herself. It would be foolish to upset the one person who has taken a positive interest in you. What did you even say to something like that, anyway?

“I don’t know if what each lord and lady does is common knowledge,” Aradia continued, “But I keep track of all the cemeteries and mortuaries of Derse. It’s a big job, you know? I’m the one making sure everything is clean and neat and not, you know, all ugly and sad.”

Jane cleared her throat. “That must be, um…well, I was under the impression that death was generally an ugly and sad thing.”

“Oh, no!” Aradia said, “Far from it! Death is wonderful. Haven’t you ever thought about it, Lady Jane? _Really_ thought about it?” She rocked forward and planted her hands on the ground so she could loom closer. “Everyone gets buried nowadays, but even if you’re not, you decompose, and your body feeds the ground so it can grow plants, and it feeds the bugs so their predators can keep eating them to live.” Her grin was still as bright and chipper as ever, but that only served to make Jane shiver. “It’s a cycle that keeps everything going. It’s amazing! Why wouldn’t I want to make the hub of all that as great as possible?”

If there was one thing Jane could admit, it was that Aradia was certainly a passionate noble – passionate to the point of frightening obsession! In some circles it could command respect and awe. To an intimidated young woman in an unfamiliar and potentially hostile environment, it was something to tiptoe around, and carefully at that.

“I…think I understand,” Jane said hesitantly. She tried to smile and hoped it did not appear forced. “You clearly respect the process of…biological phenomena? Erm, if I’m not too forward, could I assume that your love of the Art of Time connects to this in some way?”

If possible, Aradia brightened further. “Most definitely! Death comes to everyone in time, you know!” She reached out and clasped Jane’s hands with her own, her grip uncomfortably tight. “You’d be surprised how many people don’t pick up on that!”

Aradia probably could have gone on about Time and Death all day, if a knock did not break her concentration. Another head popped up into the loft, with pale hair and round black spectacles.

“’Sup, ladies.”

“Oh! ‘Sup, Dave?” As if she had forgotten Jane entirely, Aradia dropped the other girl’s hands and crawled over to the opening, peering down at him with her ever-present grin. He shrugged. Or, well, his head tilted, and Jane assumed that he shrugged.

“Just checkin’ in on my Time Buddy. Oh,” He nodded to Jane. “And Sleeping Beauty up here. You feelin’ better?” Jane craned her neck to look at him properly.

“Yes, I am. Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it. There’s lunch down here if you’re hungry. Dude, Aradia, are you staying for lunch? It’s gonna suck later in the march because we have to eat the perishables first, but we have _apples_ today.”

Jane tried not to cringe at the mention of the fruit and the memories of the Lord that came with it, but Aradia giggled. “I guess I could stay for an apple, if that’s okay! But if I’m eating lunch, I want to do it with my troops.”

Dave nodded. “That’s cool, I get it. You don’t wanna rock the boat too hard this early. I’ll come up and visit you later and we can jam, that should be better.” He raised a hand in salute. “See you two in a few, then,” He said, and he disappeared below.

Jane narrowed her eyes and drew closer. “‘Rock the boat’?” She asked. Aradia turned to her.

“Yeah. Like, overstep your boundaries, or commit faux-pas.” Her grin faltered, though she tried to keep it up. “I don’t normally care, you know? Since I’m not with everyone all the time like this. I’m usually on my own, or with Sollux, or with Dave.” She didn’t attempt to hide her falling smile, now, and to see Aradia frowning seemed strange to Jane, though she had only known her for half a day. “But everyone is strict about it when we’re all together. I just don’t see the point.”

Aradia did not speak up after that, choosing instead to frown at the floor. The silence, Jane decided, did not suit her either.

“Why is that?” She dared to ask. A pair of maroon eyes came up to meet hers.

“Because.” They flickered down again. “I think it’d be better if we were all friends instead. Wait – no. Not better.” Her brow furrowed. “We’d be safer, and stronger. We wouldn’t fight each other. We’d fight together.”

“Against what?”

The question brought the smile back to Aradia’s lips. “Against anything we had to.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now, finally, Chapter 5 is up! New content! I hope you enjoyed!
> 
> Now, for those of you who are new to this fic, hi! I hope you've enjoyed yourself so far. Chapters 1-4 were originally posted on my Tumblr account, and I had Chapter 5 finished before I started posting, so you guys're very lucky to have gotten so much fic in so short a time. I don't have a set update schedule, but rest assured that this fic is far from dead and that there is quite a lot of adventure and fun ahead!


	6. Friendship

“So I see you are feeling well enough to come down. Splendid! I hope you do not mind toast and broth, Jane, I would prefer that you do not exacerbate your condition.” Rose handed her the tray of aforementioned food herself, and her smile was too wide to be properly sincere. Jane took it cautiously.

“Are you mad at me?” Jane asked.

“Why, I don’t know why you would think that. This is a sincere gesture.”

“She IS mad,” Kanaya said from one of the couches, picking at a plate of something bloody that Jane could not quite identify. “The others were exceptionally rude to her during the march through the city.” Rose’s smile never faltered, and Kanaya did not seem afraid of what that might mean. “They all asked after you and were very snide about it.” Jane hung her head.

“I really am sorry,” She said, taking the tray. “But at the same time, I really am grateful that I got to rest, too. It won’t happen again, and I’ll work twice as hard to make it up to you, Rose, I promise.”

The smile lessened to something more genuine, and Rose inclined her head. “You can start by making an appearance tonight,” She said, and she guided Jane to the couch where Kanaya sat. Dave had retreated to another couch with a bowl of apples, and Aradia had followed him, bouncing on her heels in excitement. Dirk was nowhere to be found.

“Have at it ladies,” Dave said, his voice cool as he offered Aradia the apples, “The Ponce of Primacy is out for a walk and insisted we enjoy ourselves.”

“Is he often out for walks?” Jane asked. She took a bite of toast; it was bland and burned underneath, and she dipped it in the broth to help with the taste. All it really did was make it soggy.

Dave shrugged. “Hell if I know. If he’s not with somebody else, he’s just around. He could be taking walks. Or, he could be taking naps.” He plucked an apple from the bowl and rubbed it on his waistcoat before he took a bite. “I love my Bro, but I ain’t his keeper.”

“But you _are_ keeper of the apples,” Aradia said, and she took one for herself. He chewed and nodded furiously.

“Oh my God. Damn straight.” He held out his fist, and she bumped it with her own. “Aw yeah, we are the shit, Aradia.”

“As enlightening as the subject of hastily created titles is,” Rose said, folding her hands in her lap, “I believe Lady Megido has troops to tend to? We should not keep her from them.”

Aradia nodded. “Right, I haven’t forgotten! It was nice to see you all.” She gave the company a deep, swift bow, and turned to Jane one last time. “Take your time with those books, okay? You can give them back any time.”

As soon as Aradia had shut the caravan door, Rose left the couch and made for the ladder to the ladies’ loft. “What books did she leave you?” She asked.

“Um, things on the Esoteric Arts? I haven’t read them yet-”

Rose had poked her head into the loft, and above, Jane could hear shuffling. “Oh, how did she get these beginner’s books?” She climbed up enough so that only the lower half of her body stuck out, and soon she came down with all the books in her arms. Carrying them like that must have been no small feat, but Rose made it look easy. “These are all from the Royal Library,” She said, her mouth thinning. “Dave, did you let her take these out? They are reference only.”

Dave side-eyed the Duchess from across the caravan. “Oh. That’s what she wanted to go to the library for.”

“Don’t act like you didn’t know.” Rose took a book from the top and opened it up. A card had been placed inside, and on it read the angular, red signature of one Dave Strider. “You approved it.” Dave scoffed. Nearby, Kanaya stood up from the couch.

“My Lady,” She said, her voice very still, “That book-”

“You let her get away with anything she pleases-”

“You’re only mad because ‘people will talk’, who even gives a shit-”

“My Lady! The book!”

“Oh my God,” Jane mumbled to herself, “Is this going to go on the entire march?” She went unheard by the others, so wrapped up they were in arguing, and she stood up herself. “My Lady,” She said, turning to Rose, “Forgive my impertinence, but-” And she snatched the book right from Rose’s grasp. The argument ceased, and wide violet eyes followed the book as it was presented to Kanaya. “You wanted this, right? Aradia lent these to me, so although they are not my own, they are mine to lend.” She then took a closer look at the cover. It was black and bore a funny white symbol. “What is it about, anyway?”

Kanaya looked as if someone had presented her with a ticket back to Prospit. She took the book in both hands, and her skin glowed. “It is – Space,” She said, “It is a book about Space. Oh…” She flipped through immediately, her eyes drinking in every page. “I remember studying all of this in my grubhood! I would give anything to read it again-” There was a pause as she skimmed, and then she looked up, emerald flushing her cheeks. Her eyes flickered to Rose. “Erm. That is, if it is alright with you, My Lady.”

Rose looked at Kanaya for a moment, brow creased in frustration, before it softened. She sighed and ran a hand through her hair. “It is the equivalent of a children’s picture book. I don’t see why it would interest you.”

“If I might be so bold as to explain, the lessons hold precious memories for me,” Kanaya said, “And if my study of them displeases you…” But Rose shook her head.

“If it makes you happy, you may take it,” She said, “But when you are finished, I would ask you not to give it to Jane to read.” The too-wide smile was back, and she inclined her head to Jane. “If she is so intent on giving it away, she clearly did not intend to learn about Space for herself.”

Jane frowned, but she gritted her teeth and nodded. “How can I resist, if you say it like that?” She said, but inside she was frustrated. What she studied should be her choice, should it not? “Could I at least have the rest of the books back? Please?”

One by one, Rose relinquished the books to Jane, glancing carefully at the covers before handing them over. The last two, one emblazoned with a sun and the other with a cog, lingered still in her hands.

“Let me keep Light,” Rose said, and she tucked the book with the sun under her arm. She tossed the other to Dave, and he groaned as it hit him square in the chest. “And Dave should really hold onto Time. It would bore you, anyway. It’s nothing but pictures of clock schematics.”

“Hey. Hey, _no_.” Dave coughed and took the book in his hands. “This shit is written in the literal language of Time, and it is NOT my fault that your Seer bullshit can’t figure it out.”

There was a nudge on Jane’s back. “Go back up before they start arguing again,” Kanaya said, and she slowly edged Jane up the ladder. When she looked back, Kanaya smiled wide, clutching the Space book to her chest. “I do appreciate this, My Lady,” She said quietly, and once Jane was in the loft again, she returned to Rose’s side, presumably to ignore the two in favor of her memories.

Jane did her best to ignore the noise from downstairs as well, and she spent the afternoon wrapped in blankets and reading by the loft window. For the most part, she skimmed through each book, trying to see if something would catch her interest. She expected them to be simple, to explain the basics of each Art, but each one was different. Some mixed diagrams of the body with chunks of scientific text, while others were an intense mixture of brain-rattling philosophy and purple prose. In the end, she could only focus on one book. She could not tell what Art it was for, but on each page there was a picture of an insect or plant. The pictures were impeccably rendered in ink and watercolor, and their lines and forms were so lifelike that Jane could just imagine them springing from the page.

She only tore her eyes from the illustrations when she felt the caravan come to a stop. The light had grown dim, and she had to blink a few times for her eyes to adjust before she dared venture down the ladder. The book was still clutched in her hand, and, on a whim, she took her trident with her too.

The lower level was empty, so Jane went to the door and looked out. The caravans, it seemed, had been drawn up longways, end to front in a large circle. Beyond them, Jane could hear the troops mingling with each other, setting up camps and passing out rations. Among them she heard a familiar laugh, merry and bright despite whatever grim thing lay ahead.

“Buck up, lads! It’s only been a day, you can keep marching! By stars, if your feet hurt that badly it’ll be a relief if they fall off!”

It was Jake. Jane felt her heart tighten, and she wished she could go to join him, but even she knew there was only so much she could get away with on the good graces of others. Reluctantly, she turned away from the voice and the throng, and went to the center of the circle, where most of Derse’s nobility had gathered.

The first thing she noticed was that the Lord was still not present. His caravan, nestled next to the Princes’, had a soft light coming from its windows. Perhaps he had secluded himself because of his apparent tantrum earlier – it was something Jane had seen before. Knowing that she was most likely the source of the tantrum, however, did not ease her mind. Regardless, the other lords and ladies had joined together, sleeves rolled up, and it seemed a campsite was taking form. In the very center of the circle a pit was being dug by the blue troll, sweat rolling down his skin in droplets. Nearby, Aradia and her troll friend – Sollux, Jane remembered – were sorting the wood that someone had procured, and next to them the purple and magenta trolls with their funny fins were preparing what looked to be stew. Around the pit taking form came Rose and Kanaya, setting up some of the larger pillows from the caravan around so no one would have to sit on the grass. Jane felt sort of bad that she had rested the whole day now, especially since the others were probably tired and STILL more than happy to help each other.

The creak of a door caught Jane’s attention, and she turned to see the Lord’s caravan open. Immediately, she felt her breath catch in her throat, but it was for nothing, for it was only Dave who came out. He had lifted his spectacles from his face and was rubbing at his eyes. Behind him came Dirk, sliding his own spectacles up the bridge of his nose, and the feelings surged up anew. Jane glanced away from him and leaned back on the caravan.

“Easy, Jane,” She whispered to herself, “Easy. He’s more than a Prince.”

Her words did not crush the feelings, but they did help with her morale, and when a throat cleared she could lift her head to meet the guarded gazes of the Princes of Derse.

“Feeling better, Lady Jane?” Dirk asked.

“Um. Yes. Yes, I am.” Jane nodded. Faintly, she realized that she was gripping the book in her hand far too tightly. “Thank you for before, Your Majesty. If there’s anything I could do for you-”

“This obligation crap again?” Dirk asked. She could hear the smirk in his voice this time, and it unnerved her as much as it made her heart leap. “Alright, yeah, I know something. You can walk with us.”

Her body moved independent of her mind, it seemed, for Jane found herself in their company before she could bring herself to agree. Dirk led the way, his stride slow and easy, and though it frustrated her to do so, Jane fell behind him. She would have preferred to walk away from him as fast as possible, if only to wrangle these feelings again. The voice was back, too, as if a person had perched on her shoulder to whisper sweet dreams in her ear. Dave lagged both between and next to them, creating a sort of triangle, and he leaned over towards Jane, gaze pointed towards the book in her hand.

“Find something you like?” He asked. Jane blinked, and looked to the book herself.

“Er, sort of. I don’t know what this book is on about. I just like the pictures.”

“What are the pictures of?” Dirk asked. It took Jane a moment to find an answer, her own thoughts sent into a tizzy.

“Plants and insects,” She managed to say. Dirk nodded.

“You try reading the words between the plants and insects? If I remember it right, that should be a book on Life.” He turned his head a bit to look at Jane, and she had to work very hard to concentrate, because she thought she saw a hint of an eye from the sides of his spectacles, and the voice in her head was insistent that she discern its color. “I’ve read a bit of all the Arts, but Life really takes the cake. It’s some radical stuff, it outright shuns Cherubim. Kind of a moot point since, you know, we’ve got one pouting in his caravan, but it makes you think.” It was a relief in itself that he turned to look ahead again. “What if they hadn’t made the world? What if they didn’t stay with us? What would people do without them, what would we believe in? Because seriously, religions? All based around ‘em. Even that hokey clown rapper religion you see pop up with trolls sometimes.”

“What? Dude, no,” Dave said, and he hurried forward to walk by his brother’s side. “That shit is ridiculous. They _eat_ glitter, I have seen it.” Dirk jerked a head back to the Lord’s caravan.

“And you’re telling me _he_ wouldn’t get off on something that stupid? But seriously, you’re making me stray from the point.” He shrugged. “I _should_ tell you not to read it, but honestly? Feferi is gills deep in Life, and she’s never gotten in trouble. If any Cherub thought it was dangerous, they would’ve done away with it.” It sounded almost morbid, how he put it, and Jane felt a pang of sympathy, but for what she was not sure. It could have been for the pictures in her book for all she knew.

As they drew closer to the others, one by one each pair of eyes turned towards them, their focus landing first on the Princes out of respect, and then to Jane. Most were curious. Rose’s in particular was sharp, and Jane wanted to shy away from it. After a moment, Dirk cleared his throat and folded his arms. “While I appreciate the open stares, camp doesn’t really look ready to me. You all wanna eat before it gets too dark, right?”

Immediately, the camp became a flurry of activity, tasks picked up again at double the time from before. It was sort of funny, Jane thought.

“Dave,” Dirk said, “Go hop in where someone needs help.” Dave gave a little salute.

“Can do.”

“Miss Jane?” He turned to her, and she stepped forward. The grip she had on the book made her hand strain with hot pain.

“Yes?”

He gestured to Rose, whose gaze had not turned back to her work. “Your Lady awaits you.”

“Oh. Yes! Right.” Jane bowed her head. She dared not turn her gaze back to him, lest she lose her senses. No one would catch her if she fell here, she knew that; it was in the air, a tenseness and propriety that could not be shattered even by simple camaraderie. There were hoops to jump through, and they would come up fast and unexpected. She pushed as much of those misguiding thoughts from her head as she could and hurried to Rose’s side, hoping she was not still cross.

“I’m sorry I’m late,” Jane said, but Rose shook her head and handed her a few pillows.

“The Prince has given you yet another boon. You are only late if you arrive after him.” They walked together, Duchess and Lady-In-Waiting, and set the last few pillows around the pit. “It is very unusual, for him to take a liking to anyone new.” Jane’s head snapped up.

“A _liking_?” She asked, and her heart hammered in her chest anew. Rose shrugged.

“Well, I’m not sure what to call it. It is interesting, to say the least. I suppose whatever it is will come to light during the march.”

They had to abandon the pit, then, Kanaya joining them, as the pit had been finished. The blue troll climbed out on the other side, his clothes damp with sweat and streaked with dirt. Dave, it seemed, had deemed him most needing of help, for he came forward and presented the troll with several towels, though his face was scrunched in disgust. Not that they seemed to be helping much – the troll used them up as quickly as tissues. There was then a sudden hiss in the air, a tinge of heat and electricity, and the wood was floating into place, surrounded by white and red and blue light. Jane looked, and saw Aradia and her friend nearby, light around their hands and satisfied grins on their faces. Jane felt her mouth drop open.

“Rose,” Kanaya said nearby, “You never said anything about the others being Psionics.”

“Technically, Sollux is the Psionic,” Rose said, “Aradia is only telekinetic. I thought such a thing was common among the lowerblooded castes?”

“I only ever met one warmblood who had any sort of abilities at all,” Kanaya said. Perhaps Jane had imagined it, but she thought Kanaya sounded a mite defensive. With a bit more light, the wood in the pit began to spark, and soon a fire had started. It grew strong quickly, eating up its fuel, and some more wood was tossed on as pieces of metal rigging floated into place. Jane watched, amazed, as everything was fitted together then and there, and with precision to rival being assembled by hand. A heavy pot then floated over, and once it was put into place, the light ceased. The sun hovered just over the horizon, now, and dusk had begun to settle, the sky a brilliant orange. Everyone came to sit. Jane was flanked by Rose and Kanaya, and she sat quietly, trying to ignore the strange pairs of eyes that sought her from across the flames; the Book of Life was open in her lap, and she let her eyes linger on the words.

**Life is energy. Life is meaning. Life gives purpose to Time and Space. Life marshals Blood and Breath. Without Life the Heart will not beat; Rage could not be felt, Hope could not rise; Mind cannot think, Light cannot shine, Doom cannot come; the Void keeps no secrets.**

There was a cough to Jane’s left, and she felt the press of eyes leave her, but she did not look up. “Alright everyone,” Said Dave, “It’s our first night on the march. From what I’m seeing, it’s going pretty good. We had some speeches, kissed a few babies, did all that great public relations crap, and we’ve still got our morale going strong, right?”

“I have no morale to thpeak of,” Said Aradia’s troll friend, and he squawked. “The _fuck_ , AA?”

“Don’t tease, Sollux!” She hissed, “This is serious!”

**Life is the fire of the Forge of Creation. From it all beings emerge, even when it ravages the land, for nature surges back with a vengeance. The pyre, in this sense, becomes the egg, and from its ashes all who follow Life shall emerge anew.**

“Is there anybody who needs a little pick-me-up in the way of morale?” Dave asked. There was a pause. “Air a grievance? Not that you should be making them this early. Pretty sure it takes a couple weeks to get to the Scratchlands at least.”

“I got _six_ ,” The purple finned troll said, and he too was made to squawk. “ _Ow-w_ , Fef, right in the _gills_ , don’t you hawe any _mercy_?”

“Nobody wants to hear you glub about the mud, Eridan!” The magenta troll said. Her smile glimmered like knives across the fire. “Or how uncomfortable your pile is, _or_ how long you’ll have to go without a bath!”

“To be fair, Fef, you only listed three of ‘em – _hey_!”

**Many look for the meaning of Life without realizing that Life itself gives meaning. It drives all other ambitions of man – it even drives the ambitions of Gods. To wield it is to never be beholden by them, but to have them in the very palm of your hand.**

“If I might interject,” Rose said, and she stood, commanding the impromptu court. Even Jane lifted her head from her book. “I happen to have a grievance that I would very much like to air.”

Dave groaned beside her. “Rose, really? Seriously? You of all people?”

“I would like to make it known that the actions of Lady Megido have thoroughly upset me,” She continued, and she looked at Aradia with the iciest of gazes. Aradia looked right back, her mouth set in a thin line and her eyes hard. “She has made a habit out of dipping her toes into waters that are best kept out of, and I am tired of finding wet footprints where they should not be.”

“Your Royal Highness,” said the blue troll, his brow glimmering in the firelight, “I too am…repulsed, and offended…by Megido’s behavior. I do not believe you need to sully your own hands in order to each her a lesson. Perhaps, someone else could-”

“Whoa, hey, no,” Dave said, “Aradia didn’t do shit, and if she did, you wouldn’t even be allowed on the list of people allowed to give her grief for it.” He then turned to Rose, his irritation clear even behind his spectacles. “Are you really that mad that I let her borrow a couple books?”

“For once, I agree with the douchebag,” Aradia’s friend said. His hand was tight on her shoulder, and she looked boiling mad. “AA and thweaty hoofbeatht fuckerth aren’t allowed to get involved in anything remotely related to punithment.” The blue troll sputtered, and his face darkened marvelously.

“Not to be rude or anything,” Dirk said, and he too stood, “But Captor, that insult was way below the belt. You can actually keep discourse clean, I’ve heard you do it, so make a goddamn effort and don’t make this worse.”

There was a heavy thud from behind, accompanied by a rattle of a breath, and everyone’s gaze turned to the darkness, even Jane’s, though she knew what she would find. Out of it peered the Lord’s eyes, huge and red.

“I heard yelling,” He said, his words gravel and ice and teeth, all teeth. “Tell me why there is yelling. I am trying to sleep. And I cannot. I feel like a human father coming to reprimand. His unruly and incompetent children!”

The words shook Jane to their very core, and coupled with his eyes, which seemed to look into everyone at once, all other thoughts retreated in the face of fear. The Lord was angry. They must make it up to him in any way they could.

It was Rose who came to her senses first, giving a little shake as her usual cool smile settled back on her face. “Forgive me, Lord Caliborn. Sir Dave asked, as is custom, if we had anything we would like to settle, and I personally find myself itching to settle something with Lady Megido.” The Lord hummed and came closer. The light made shadows dance in the hollows of his cheeks, and the usual green pallor of his skin was tinged with the orange of the fire. He always looked like a monster to Jane, but here, out in the open and even with her trident at her side, she felt like helpless prey.

“The Aradia troll is my pupil. I would not want her to fight the Rose human.” He looked at Rose with unmasked scorn. “You are a slippery bitch. Your Light would allow you to cheat.”

Rose wrinkled her nose. “I assure you, I would not use my Light so foolishly-”

“It would be better,” The Lord said, caring not for what Rose had to say about honesty and her Art, “If you gave your place to someone else.” He looked to Jane, then, and he grinned. Every corner of her mind was filled with sharp fear and desperate obedience. She should not have run from him, it was wrong, he would make her pay. “I have heard. That you acquired a Lady in Waiting. She cannot cheat. Wily bitch though she must be.” A hand came to grasp Jane’s. Dimly, she realized it to be Kanaya’s.

“That’s preposterous,” Rose said, “I am willing to fight for my grievance. Why would I make someone else fight in my place?” She stepped in front of Jane, blocking his eyes and breaking the fear in her mind. Jane gasped for breath, and her body began to shake. Kanaya took her shoulders with her other hand.

“Steady,” She whispered, “Hold steady, My Lady, don’t let him best you.”

“You forget your place, Rose human,” Said the Lord. Slowly, he leaned down to bring his face into hers. If he had a nose, his would almost touch hers. “I am the Lord of Lords. I rank higher than you of royal birth. Simply because I am a _fucking_ God.” He grunted, and turned his head to Dirk, who out of everyone was the stillest. “What do you say, Dirk? You must agree with me. Let the Jane human fight in the Rose human’s place.”

The Lord’s eyes were reflected in Dirk’s spectacles; they were no longer red, but green and blue and orange and black and every color of the rainbow, flickering in an endless cycle. She had seen him do that only once before, when she was very young and had not yet left Crocker Hall. He had been arguing with the Madame, angry and violent, and her eyes too had flickered, full of pain and power. Jane did not know what it did, only that it must have meant trouble for her.

Finally, finally, Dirk let out a sigh. “If it helps you sleep easier at night, then fine,” He said. Rose glared at him.

“Dirk!”

“It’s an order,” Dirk said, “I’m going over your head again, Lalonde. Sit it out. I can’t argue this with him right now.”

The next few moments were a flurry of activity. A huge hand grabbed Jane by the wrist and pulled her out of Kanaya’s arms, half dragging her to some space away from the fire. It was the Lord himself who had taken her, and he looked all too smug as he put two claws to his mouth and whistled. There was a cry, and a company dressed all in green slipped in between the caravans, bearing long, burning torches. They were placed around the caravans, bringing light to the circle, and the others came forward, standing on the sidelines. Someone pushed Aradia towards Jane, and someone else tossed a weapon into the space. It was a whip, coiled and dark, and Aradia snatched it up from the ground with a frown.

“This is so dumb,” She said, and she looked to Jane. “I’m sorry you got dragged into this. I’d much rather be fighting Rose than you.”

“I would rather no one had to fight at all!” Jane said. She looked back to the others. Rose was grim, and Kanaya even moreso, if it was possible. She was holding Jane’s book, somehow, and at least Jane knew it would be returned later, so she did not fret.

“Backs together!” The Lord commanded, “Take ten paces! Turn and bow! And then you duel!” He was mad with delight, far removed from the growling grump that had first appeared at the edge of the campsite. Jane hoped he would not be a regular at its side. “The first bitch to drop their weapon loses!”

Reluctantly, Jane and Aradia pressed their backs together. Some of the troops had heard the commotion and were peering into the campsite now, some crawling in through the cracks between caravans, others climbing atop them to get a better view. They seemed enthused by the idea of a fight and began to hoot and holler. Could Jake be with them, Jane wondered? Could he see her, was he even the slightest bit worried? “Hey, Lady Jane?” Aradia asked, “You’re not going to take it personally if you get hurt, are you? I mean – I’ll try not to! But it could still happen.”

“I don’t…” Jane brought a hand to the handle of her trident. It felt strangely comforting when its blue stone dug into her palm. “Well, I know it’s not me you’re mad at. And if I get hurt, it’s my fault, right?”

“Why would you say that?”

“I’m…not very good at this sort of thing. Rose tried to teach me. I just can’t get the hang of it. If I can’t fight, then it’s all on me.”

“PACES,” The Lord bellowed, and the girls left the conversation at that. He counted out the paces, each number sending another shiver down Jane’s spine, and on ten she spun on her heel. Aradia had unfurled her whip, and it hung still at her side.

“BOW. AND-”

They both bowed at the hip.

“-FIGHT!”

Jane drew her trident and fell into her opening stance like it was second nature, but she dared not take a step forward. It would break any illusion of competence she had, and she was very aware of the many eyes on her form. They were all judging her, judging Rose, judging Aradia. She should never have accepted this-

And then Aradia burst forward, letting out a clear battle cry, and any thought about inadequacy and fear was thrown completely out the window. She could just see the whip arch down through the air and she threw herself to the side, tumbling to the ground like a child falls over their own feet. The whip cracked nearby, and there were a few tittering laughs in the crowds. Jane scrambled to get on her feet again, her hand aching from all the things she had grasped. She thought Aradia would have pulled her down again with her whip, somehow, but she waited until Jane was on her feet before she lashed out again.

For a time, all Jane could do was gracelessly dodge and fall as stroke after stroke of the whip came down to try and meet her. Aradia’s movements were surprisingly simple to dodge. With something like a whip, one would expect a trickier technique, but it was always down, or left, or right, never diagonal and never grabby.

Well, almost never.

The whip wrapped around the length of Jane’s trident and went taunt. It almost slipped out of her grasp then and there, and the crowds roared. She reached up with her free hand and grabbed just below the tines, and, by chance, she turned to see the nobles. They, unlike their troops, were a silent and rapt audience. She did not look the Lord in the eyes, for she knew they would fill her with the fear again. It was his fault she was in this mess in the first place! He probably expected her to lose, and by doing so, to slowly undo all she was here to accomplish. There was a burst of something within her, and Jane gripped her trident as hard as she could. She’d prove him wrong. She’d prove them all wrong.

When she yanked, the whip did not give as much resistance as she thought it would. Surely, even if Aradia did not want to hurt her, she was dueling to win. As the crowds screamed in disbelief and the nobles gaped, Jane unwrapped the whip from her weapon and handed it back to its owner.

“Can I still be your friend?” She asked. A grin broke on Aradia’s face.

“I’d be okay with that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, the first duel! It's a bit short, and it takes a while to get there, but I'm glad it's finally up. It's just one more step in the ramping up of the stakes and plot!


	7. Dual

“Aradia threw that duel for you,” Rose said the next morning, “Everyone could tell.”

The night before had become a sigh of relief once the Lord stomped off to his caravan again, an offered bowl of stew clutched in his claws and his grumbling thankfully softened from its usual roar. No one stayed long after they received their dinners, and Jane did not blame them. Dealing with a Cherub’s power like that was draining, and one wanted all the alone time they could get to recover. Jane had been thankful to slurp up her stew and retire to bed, even if she had to share it with Kanaya this time. Trolls were not the easiest of sleepers, and Kanaya had hogged most of the blankets and pillows to form them into a large pile in which to sleep, but they managed. The sun’s rays had peeked over the horizon, and the sky was already changing from pink to a wan blue that filled their loft window. Jane, still tired, had been staring out at it when Rose had spoken up. Duchesses, it seemed, were not immune to bed head.

“Why would she lose the duel on purpose?” Kanaya asked. She was the only one of them who had bothered to ready herself for the day. She dressed more like a lady than either of them, with all the proper underthings to help shape her into stiff, ruffled dresses. They were all in black, of course, and a strange looking “M” had been stitched into her breast pocket. As she spoke, she fitted a choker around her neck, fingering the rose it bore. “Surely she wanted to prove you were wrong, My Lady. She looked ready to burst.”

“It wasn’t really an airing of a grievance,” Rose said, “We both knew that. As soon as Caliborn knew what was happening, he used it to test Jane. Not that they would be able to tell, what with his interference.” She paused, and covered her mouth daintily to yawn. “Though I think Aradia could tell, at least. Cherub manipulation or not, it was definitely me she wanted to fight, not you. Her throwing the duel is proof enough.”

“But if the others won’t be able to tell, then how would they know that?”

“They won’t. They saw Aradia lose on purpose, and they will not be able to understand why.” Rose tossed her blanket to the side. “But it shouldn’t bring you much trouble. A duel is a duel, and if any problems arise, they will be brought to my attention and not yours.”

“I certainly hope so,” Jane said. She knew she had made an utter fool of herself out there, even if she had won, and she was not eager to repeat her performance.

The ladies dressed with Kanaya’s help, and they descended to the lower level just as the caravan began to move again. It was Dirk this time that lingered there, lounging casually on one couch while another held a tray of breakfast, bearing rolls and hardboiled eggs. Jane did her best to clamp down on those strange and unbidden feelings, strong though they were. They helped her noticed how composed he was, especially compared to last night, when his usual mask slipped enough for her to read him.

“Morning, ladies,” Dirk said, and he nodded to them. “You missed breakfast.”

“How kind of you to bring it to us, then,” Rose said, and she took some food for herself. Dirk shrugged.

“Dave wanted you to starve. I told him to stop being a drama queen and go drum up his troops. There’s only so much he can make English do as his second in command, you know?”

“Jake is second in command of the Royal Troops?” Jane asked, her jaw dropping. Dirk gave her a nod.

“He’s not really commanding them so much as keeping them in line. He’s shockingly good at rallying people, from what I’ve seen.” With a nonchalance only he seemed to exude, Dirk leaned forward to rest clasped hands on his knees. “But that reminds me. You two know each other, right?”

Jane felt her insides grow cold. “We do,” She said, and she knew that Rose and Kanaya were looking at her, wondering if she would let anything slip. “But I would prefer you not ask me about him, Your Majesty. Our history is…complicated.”

She thought he would press further. Instead, he hummed sagely. “I see. He does have an illustrious and thickheaded reputation for breaking hearts. Sorry to hear that, Miss Jane.” At once, Jane blanched, and she made a face. He was her _cousin_ , for goodness sake! Where had Dirk gotten _that_ idea? And what was this about breaking hearts? What in heaven’s name had Jake been up to at the palace?!

“Oh my God, no!” Jane exclaimed, “We were never-”

 “It’s okay, you don’t need to explain.” Dirk waved it off as if her obvious distress was nothing. “His ass is twelve kinds of fine, I do not blame you for looking in the least.”

She furrowed her brow. “Are you implying that you’ve been looking at his, Your Majesty?” She asked. He leaned back again.

“I’d prefer you not ask me about him, Miss Jane,” He said, the slightest of quirks to his lips, “It’s complicated.”

That set off an alarm in Jane’s head, and the feelings withdrew, giving way to confusion. The way he said it, and the slightest hint of emotion on his face, was enough to make Jane suspicious. Dirk very well could be oogling her cousin! But did that mean what she thought it meant? And if it did, she wasn’t sure she was okay with that, but her concern was moreso aimed towards Jake.

If the Prince was…if he _was_ , well, it was none of her concern, the Madame’s stories and the intruding feelings aside. She knew very well what she was here for, and it was not to sweep Dirk off his feet. It was to save Jake, and even if he wasn’t as addled as he was, she would worry if someone with power wanted him in such a way. They could hurt him, and she could do nothing to stop it. While the Prince had not done anything that convinced Jane he might hurt Jake, she was still wary. Family was family, after all.

“I suppose I shall leave it at that, then,” Jane finally said. It would be no use to press him for details if he was unwilling to share, and she doubted he ever would. She would just have to keep a sharper eye out. Jane turned away from Dirk to take some breakfast for herself, and sat quietly as she peeled her eggs.

“The matter of behinds aside,” Rose said, “Your mention of the Royal Troops reminds me. We have yet to create our plan of attack.”

“Mm. Right.” Dirk shrugged. “I was thinking we could just, you know, look down on our enemies from the hills and run down screaming. Paint our faces purple, take our shirts off, make the Heir of Prospit wet his lacy undergarments.” Jane choked on a bite of egg at this, and Rose fixed him with a tired glare.

“Please tell me you have something better than that in the words,” She said. Dirk sighed.

“Why so _serious_ , Duchess?” He said, and reached behind the couch. “Hold on, I’ve got an old map of Prospit back here somewhere. You can do your scrying thing, I can do my planning thing, and when we get there, Dave can do his fucking shit up thing.” He lifted a large roll of thick parchment and unfurled it with a flourish. On it, rendered in faded black ink and gold leaf, was a map of the country of Prospit. Jane would know it anywhere, for she still remembered lessons with the Madame, and big maps and books full of depictions of her kingdom. On its right side lay a partial rendition of the Scratchlands, said to be nothing but bramble and peril, but Prospit itself was dotted with towns and veined with rivers and roads. Far, far to the west, there was even a bit of shoreline.

“I thought gold was outlawed in Derse,” Jane said. Her pendant felt particularly heavy.

“I _am_ the law,” Dirk said. His face never lifted from the map. “If I want a gaudy old map of my enemy, I’ll have it.”

“You should see the utterly asinine collections he and his dear brother have on display in the palace.” Rose said, and from her bosom she drew her own pendant. It was a pewter squid, and in its tentacles it held a pointed shard of a stone, spackled with black and deep purple. “Although I will say that the practice of hording ludicrous curios must be hereditary. My dear sister’s jarred cats are a prime example of that.”

Jane perked up at that. The Duchess of Lalonde had a sister? If anyone noticed her surprise, they did not comment on it.

“I still have the one she gave me when I was a kid,” Dirk said. He had propped his chin in his hands and watched Rose as she knelt in front of the map and began to swing her pendant.

“Hmm. I believe you called him ‘Snugglebuns’ upon receiving him.” It took a lot of willpower for Jane not to choke on another piece of egg.

“I still call him Snugglebuns. That’s his _name_ , Rose.”

“He seemed more like a Charlesworth to me.” Rose closed her eyes. “But let’s save our name debate for another time, shall we? I need to concentrate.”

Dirk obeyed, and while Jane had to bite her cheek to keep from giggling, she turned her attention to Rose. There was a subtle glow around her pendant, like mites of light, and it spun in perfect arcs. Rose’s eyes had frosted over, and her breathing was deep, as if she were sleeping. Kanaya in particular watched her with a peculiar fretfulness, her hands fidgeting with the breakfast she held. There was a sudden twang in the air, and the pendant stilled, its tip shaking as it pointed to the very center of the map, where a castle had been rendered in black.

“The capitol,” Rose said, her voice level and calm in a way that it never normally was, even for her, “Is where the sunlit children sleep. The walls are steep, and the path to their beds is choked with innocents. They would throw themselves upon the pyre for them.” She leaned forward, eyes riveted to the pendant as if it showed her the world. “Spirited playthings lie in wait to kill the malicious, and their Mother dearest can swallow you whole, but they do not fear spear or sword ever breeching their walls. Kick the door in and smash the playthings, and they will scatter to the wind-”

Suddenly, the pendant went limp, and Rose gasped sharply as the life returned to her eyes. She swayed for a moment before falling forward, and Jane jumped. Even Dirk reacted; his body went rigid, and he leaned forward, studying his cousin’s state.

 “My Lady!” Kanaya exclaimed, and she drew the Duchess away from the map and back onto the couch. “Are you alright?”

Rose gave a weak nod, and she patted one of Kanaya’s hands. “I am alright,” She said. Her breath made the words ragged, and when she tried to sit up, it looked to be an effort. “But it seems Prospit has a Seer of its own. She felt my presence and pushed me back.”

“Does – does that sort of thing happen often?” Jane asked. Rose shook her head and frowned.

“There aren’t many Seers in the world. Honestly, they should know better than to force one of their own out of a trance.” The frown on her face deepened. “I hope to meet her on the battlefield to…remind her of this fact.”

With each word Rose spoke, Dirk relaxed, and he reached out to snatch the map back up. “You go ahead and pursue your vague Seer revenge, have fun with that,” He said, “But I do thank you for your insight. A wall, a town, an armed Court, and a Seer, huh?  That’s a lot to plan around.”

“What about their ‘Mother’?” Jane asked. “Who could that be?”

“Obviously, it’s their Cherub,” Dirk said. He rolled the map up slowly, taking care not to crease it. “Rose has called ours ‘Father’ in visions before. She then promptly washes her mouth out with soap.” He ignored the scathing look Rose sent his way. “Yep, her mouth is the freshest out of us all. I’d make a metaphor out of it, but I’m not feelin’ up to form today.”

“What a tragedy,” Rose said. Judging by how hard she rolled her eyes, Jane suspected her sentiments were not sincere.

“Don’t lament so soon, Lalonde. There’s time in this trip yet. We may very well have to sort ourselves out with a metaphor-off.”

Jane’s eyebrows shot up. A metaphor-off? Really? More and more, the feelings that had sent her into such turmoil before had found reason to shrink away, and she reveled in her ability to breathe easily again.

“Be still my beating heart! The anticipation shall surely do me in.”

“Sarcasm is unbecoming of you, cousin.”

~*~

After breakfast came marching, and when there was marching to do, it was done with the troops. They were the ones who the trek was the hardest on, but this was only the second day in, and despite the complaints they kept on, many with smiles on their faces. The nobility were not expected to march the whole way – the caravans were an escape for them, a privacy and a privilege. They were, however, expected to mingle and lead their companies.

All of Rose’s company was armored women, troll and human alike, and all wore her namesake in their blood color on their person. They were polite enough, but they all treated Jane with a sort of coldness, shaking her hand only if she offered first and talking over her head when speaking to Rose. They were even worse to Kanaya, outright ignoring her presence, but she did not seem to mind; she would move closer to Rose as she looked at her offenders pointedly, and the Duchess would take her hand for all to see. That sent as powerful a message as the roses they all bore, even Jane knew that.

The day wore on slowly. The countryside of Derse was wan with the lingering cold of winter, the grasses without luster and the few trees without early spring buds. They marched not on roads, but in the fields themselves, and for miles there were no farms, no towns, no people. It seemed to put everyone on edge, how open and barren everything was, and though Jane did not like it, it reminded her of her childhood in Crocker Hall. The villa had been in the northern tip of the Scratchlands, where its rumored dangers thinned in the face of lengthened winters and the presence of the Madame. She had spent days and days of her childhood rolling in fields with Jake and Roxy, and those memories, while bitter and sad, were sweeter than paying any mind to Rose’s company.

Eventually, when the sun began to hang low in the sky, the troops dispersed and the caravans pulled together into a circle again. This time, Jane quickly fell into helping, and she did not have time to watch the others do the same, but there was a funny tingling sensation on her back as she went about her business, as if bits of electricity were dancing there. As much as she brushed her shoulders, the feeling would not go away. Judging by how often Rose would roll her own shoulders and scowl, it seemed as if Jane was not the only one troubled. As the camp came together and everyone sat down, she leaned subtly towards the Duchess.

“Are you feeling strange too?” She asked, her voice nearly lost to the crackling fire before her. Rose nodded, her lips pursed in a frown.

“It is only Lord Captor being petulant,” She said, and her eyes flickered across the fire. There, Aradia’s troll friend sat. He looked especially dour, and in the light Jane thought she spotted two yellow studs below his lower lip. Had he had those before? She hadn’t noticed them. “Think nothing of it. He will make his move, and I will take care of things.” Jane balked.

“He’s going to make a _move_? What for?!”

“Why do you think?”

What did she mean, what did Jane think? She couldn’t think of any reason for anyone to make a move concerning her, and it only made her nervous.

Like the night before, Dave was the first to stand and address those gathered. “’Sup, everybody,” He said. The crowd looked unimpressed, and he coughed. “Let me try that again. How ist thou morose motherfuckers holding up on our trek into the cheerfully idiotic?” He asked. There was a twang of irony to his voice, covering his words like fine icing on a half baked cake. That, at least, got a bubbly chuckle from the magenta troll.

“Eridan and I are holding up just fin,” She said, and she nudged the purple troll, who had folded his arms in front of his chest and was doing his best to look disinterested. “His six complaints have gone down to five and a half-shell! I might get him to one by the time we reach Prospit!”

“Whoa, Peixes,” Said Dirk, and he held up a hand, “Slow down there. I don’t think anybody is ready for Ampora to have only one complaint at all times.” The purple troll looked absolutely scandalized. “Also, how does someone have half a complaint? You’ve either got one or you don’t, that’s basic logic.”

Dave started up a slow clap. No one else joined in.

“Can we not do this thtupid merry-go-round of inthulth?” Asked Lord Captor. His two-tone glare had come to rest on the princes. “I have thomthing to thay.” Dirk shrugged.

“Have at it, Captor,” He said, “You promise to keep it clean today?”

The yellow troll gave His Majesty a grin that was all edges and fang. “I’ll try. For you, DR.”

Dirk nodded. “Much appreciated.”

After a sigh, the troll stood. He was by no means especially intimidating, but his expression was particularly nasty. It could burn a hole in the sky, if it wanted to.

“I challenge the Duchethh of Lalonde to a duel,” He said, and beside him, Aradia let out a weird sound and yanked on his sleeve.

“Sollux, cut it out!” She said, but he forged on.

“I am tired of you treating AA like crap, and I want you to cut it out! The’th jutht ath important ath you are, and all you do ith put her down!” Red and blue sparked between his horns, and Jane felt the tingling on her back anew. “What’th AA ever done to make you tho fucking angry, huh?”

“ _Solluxander Captor_!” Aradia gave him a particularly sharp tug, but still he did not budge. “You are embarrassing me and you are embarrassing yourself!!”

“You can say that again,” The purple troll said, his words a loud and obvious whisper to his magenta companion, “Fef, is this a w-weird low-wblooded black solicitation or somethin’? I thought humans didn’t do quadrants, why would Sol ewen bother?”

“Fuck _off_ , ED,” Sollux growled. The sparks became larger, and their crackle rivaled that of the fire.

The blue troll raised his hand to catch the others’ attention. “It looks to me like more of a particularly…red gesture, for Megido’s sake,” He commented, and he hurriedly blotted his face with a towel. “How lewd…”

“Zahhak,” Dirk said, his voice a veiled warning, “Don’t start. We really don’t need to wake up a certain someone with a shouting match two nights in a row.”

The words seemed to knock the wind out of everyone, and even Sollux took a step back, his frustration and anger receding to a mild fear. With an air of finality, Rose cleared her throat. “I suppose I could humor your request,” She said, “Let’s make it quick.”

There were no torches summoned to light the camp, and the troops did not cling to the edges of the circle to watch. Rose and Sollux stood back to back in silence. Jane watched with the others, and beside her stood Kanaya, her face tight with worry.

“Is Lord Captor a particularly good fighter?” Jane asked. Kanaya shook her head.

“I couldn’t say. In all my time here, I don’t think I’ve ever seen him fight.” She leaned closer to Jane, and her voice dropped to a whisper. “But those psionics…it does give one reason to worry, though I am almost certain that such powers are forbidden in a duel.”

“I’m just glad it’s not me out there,” Jane said. They had begun to pace, and at ten they both turned. Rose’s hand went to where her rapier hung, while Sollux reached into his waistcoat. Slowly, he pulled something from it, something long and coiled and oddly familiar. Nearby, Aradia gasped.

“That _sneak_!” She said, balling her hands into fists, “He took my whip! How did he even get at it without my noticing?”

“Does he even know how to use anything other than his powers?” Dave asked her. It was a hushed question, but Jane just managed to hear it. Aradia shook her head.

“He’s never bothered to learn,” She told him, and she shifted from foot to foot, worry and trepidation flickering on her face. Out of the corner of her eye, Jane thought she saw an awkward hand come to rest on Aradia’s shoulder, and Dave looked like he was trying his best not to frown. Before them, the duelers bowed, and they bothered with their stances only for a moment before Sollux came forward. The whip uncoiled behind him as he lashed out, and Rose sidestepped, her rapier a glint of light as it was unsheathed.

By all accounts, the duel was very short, but Jane watched it carefully, drinking in each movement. It was very obvious that Sollux had no idea what he was doing; he was unsure on his feet and his grip on the whip was uneasy, and Jane wondered if she looked much the same the night before. Rose, in comparison, was poised, her face never betraying a single action, each step and flick of the rapier graceful and dancelike. In minutes, she managed to draw close enough to smack the whip from Sollux’s hands, and he hissed in pain, falling to his knees. Jane felt Kanaya immediately relax beside her.

“Are we done, Lord Captor?” Rose asked. She leveled the point of her rapier to the space between his eyes. For a moment, he glared quietly up at her, and then a grin broke on his face. Rose’s rapier sparked with red and blue, and the point was shifted out of his face.

“Two for two,” He said. Rose blinked. Her rapier lowered, and her mouth fell into a perfect ‘o’.

“Excuse me?”

“Two,” He said again, and he rose to his feet, cradling his hand, “For two.” He gestured towards the noble spectators, and Jane felt the tingling on her back return, stronger than ever. She squeaked. “You thpeak for you, and that one thpeakth for you. Nobody winth unlethh I fight both of you, right?”

Aradia groaned and ran a hand over her face, and the other trolls began to mutter amongst themselves, all wearing looks of confusion and disapproval. Jane was too distracted to make out what they were saying. Would she have to duel again? Even if it was against someone who was as poor at it as she, if she had any say, Jane would not do it. She did not like her first time, and doubted a second would prove to be any better.

Before she could protest, Dirk walked out to the duelers and stood between them. He turned to Rose first, took in her displeasure, and then looked to Sollux, who seemed all too smug for the loser of a duel. He held out a hand.

“You can fight Lady Jane tomorrow night,” He said, and Jane felt Kanaya’s hand on her arm, holding her in place. “But you’ll be using a sword. Much less tricky than Megido’s rodeo prop, and besides, it’s not cool to take somebody’s stuff, especially without asking first.” Wordlessly, Sollux picked up the whip and handed it to Dirk, who carefully coiled it up again. “I think we’ve had enough grudge-related excitement for one night, and you’ll fuck up your hand if you don’t rest it for a bit. Damn thing’s bruising already.”

Sollux eased his gaze, and he shrugged.” I guethh I could wait,” He said. Dirk clapped him on the shoulder.

“Good.” He turned to Rose. “Any objections, my dear cousin?”

Rose sheathed her rapier. “None at all,” She said through gritted teeth. Dirk gestured to the others, and they left the space to join them. He followed behind, and when he reached everyone again, he handed the whip back to Aradia. Sollux had retreated to her side, and she had been chastising him in hushed tones ever since, but she took the whip nonetheless.

“So how about we let this rest for the night and eat dinner,” Dirk said, addressing the group, “Sound like a plan?” Reluctantly, everyone nodded and returned to the fire, but Jane could not. She was rooted to the ground, numb and frightened, and her trident felt heavier than usual at her hip. When she did not move, Dirk came to her side. To have him near made the feelings flare, but they were lost in her fear.

“Somethin’ wrong, Lady Jane?” He asked. She swallowed thickly.

“I don’t want to fight again,” She said.

 “Don’t blame you for that,” Dirk told her, running a hand through his hair, “This whole mess really isn’t your fault.” He crossed his arms in front of his chest. “Then again, it’s not like you really have a choice in the matter.”

The fear snapped, and frustration spiked. “Then why are you making me do it?” Jane asked, turning to face him. Dirk shrugged.

“Because Captor wouldn’t stop bitching until I did? Because you need to prove yourself against somebody who’s actually trying to fight back?” He gestured flippantly towards the fire behind them. “You want to be taken seriously, right? Not everybody over there is going to willingly put their ass on the line for yours.”

Jane gritted her teeth. “When did I ever say that I wanted them to? I just don’t see the point in all of this!” She threw her hands up in the air. “It’s insane! It’s like – it’s like a mad circus, all this postulating and double-talk! For goodness sake, why does it even have to be this way?!” Dirk fell quiet at her words. Slowly, he drew closer to her, and with each inch she felt the desire to draw back, but something kept Jane steady, something that refused to give him the satisfaction. This close, Jane could make out the shape of his eyes behind his spectacles if she concentrated. It made him startlingly human, to see the pupils shift and the eyes themselves narrow.

“When you’re in charge,” Dirk said, his tone low and edging on dangerous, “When you run this pony show, then by all means, change it to whatever you like. But for now, I’ve got the reigns, alright? And I’m just enforcing the rules. Pretty sure your promise to me – you know, the one where you don’t waste this chance – implies that you’ll follow them.” He was cold and unforgiving in tone and stance, obviously trying to push her over the edge, but no – Jane would not let him. She _could not_ let him. She was in this far deeper than she’d thought, and it was very likely that she’d have to go deeper if she wanted to help Jake at all.

“How do you expect me to earn any respect through fighting?” She asked, “I’m horrible at it.”

This earned a snicker, and Dirk’s expression eased slightly. “No shit, you suck.”

“You want me to do well, don’t you?” Jane asked. “You push me every chance you get, your Majesty, don’t think I haven’t noticed.” She was the one moving in, now, and while she couldn’t tell if that was at all intimidating to Dirk, it did make her feel a little stronger. “If you’re so concerned with my performance in front of everyone else, why…why, you should teach me how to fight!”

She was being far too presumptuous. What if Dirk’s strange concern for her meant something else? What would asking for his help prove? It didn’t help that his eyebrows shot up at her request, or that he backed away, though she could now breathe easier. She couldn’t see his eyes anymore.

“You’d be willing to learn?” He asked, “From me?”

Jane frowned. “I learned a bit from Rose, didn’t I?” Dirk sniffed.

“You learned how not to start off looking like an idiot. I’ll give you that. But do you really think you can handle my brand of training? I’m not gonna go easy on you.”

She drew herself to her full height and took a deep breath. His words felt like a test, but she did not care if what she was about to say would prove to be the worst answer. “I can handle anything you would be willing to dish out.”

A slow grin appeared on Dirk’s face. If Jane knew any better, she might have called it almost…mischievous.

“Now that’s what I like to hear.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thought I'd have Jane and Sollux's duel in this chapter, but the duality thing was too good for me to pass up. Plus, it gave Jane and Dirk interaction more of an in! Not sure when the next chapter will go up, but I'll do my best to get them to you as timely as possible.


	8. Choice

Dinner was a quiet affair, and everyone soon retired to their caravans to sleep. Jane lay in bed with Kanaya curled into a pile at her side and thought of the coming duel, thought of the Prince and his grin and whatever he might have in store for her with this training of his. What possessed her to think that leaving her at his mercy was a good idea? Rose had been strict, but she had been forgiving – who knew what Dirk would do? It was a long time before Jane finally faded into sleep, utter exhaustion triumphing over anxiety. When she awoke, it was to an empty loft, the blankets laid neatly over her body and her clothes ready for her. The caravan was already on the move.

“Shoot! I’m late!”

Jane dressed as quickly as she was able and hurried down, making for the cabinets on the far end of the caravan. Would she get in trouble for sleeping in? Would anyone care if she ate while she marched? She hoped not, and she threw open the nearest cabinet.

Immediately, her vision was flooded with color and plush fabric. Jane squealed as, one after another, vivid oddities tumbled out of the cabinet and onto her head. They piled around her feet until the cabinet was empty, she promptly picked one up. They were odd things, made with round heads and long noses and ridiculously cartoonish posteriors. Jane wrinkled her nose.

“What in the world is this supposed to be?” She asked aloud.

“It’s a Smuppet.”

The Prince’s voice surprised Jane, and she squealed again, dropping the funny toy and looking upwards. There, from the hole for the boys’ loft, Dirk’s head gazed down at her, upside-down and grinning. She would be more surprised at the grin if she didn’t find it so irritatingly smug.

“What in blue blazes was it doing in the _cabinet_??” Jane asked.

“Waiting for you, obviously.”

There was no thought in Jane’s head – no thought but to make him pay, because if he was lying in wait like this, it had to have been Dirk who put them there, fuzzy feelings be damned – and she snapped up and lobbed the offending Smuppet at his face. With ease, he pulled up, and only appeared again when the Smuppet had fallen gracelessly to the ground.

“Gonna have to try a bit harder than that, Jane,” He said. The next Smuppet grazed his hair, and he whistled. “Alright, that wasn’t too bad.” The third came near enough for him to reach a hand out, and he grabbed it by its nose.

“You do realize,” Dirk said, letting it swing lazily in his fingers, “That arming an enemy is a really stupid idea.”

Jane’s jaw dropped. “You wouldn’t – oh!” She ducked just in time for the felt creature to sail right over her head, and a chuckle bubbled up from her throat in spite of herself as she grabbed another Smuppet. When she looked back up, Dirk had disappeared, and she rushed forward, climbing the ladder with the sole purpose of payback.

She really should have expected more of the ridiculous things to tumble down from the loft. When they hit, she let out a shriek. “I’ve got a veritable army of the things,” Dirk said from above. His face appeared in the loft opening. “Better give up, because when it comes to Smuppet Warfare, I am simply the best there is-”

A launched Smuppet caught Dirk in the face and nearly knocked his glasses askew. Jane let out a cheer as he scrambled to push them back into place.

“What were you saying again, Dirk?” She asked, smirking. His face withdrew.

“I’m still the best there is,” He said, his voice traveling in the loft, “That was a lucky shot. Can we call a cease fire for now, though? This is silly and I wanna come down.”

Jane obliged, very happy with her little victory, and as the Prince descended, a thought came to her. “Do these shenanigans have anything to do with your method of training, by chance?” She asked, “Or did you just feel the urge to pull a good jape?”

“A ‘jape’? Cripes, Jane, you could just ask if I’m fucking with you like everybody else.” Dirk ran a hand through his hair. “Yeah, no. It’s more like a test for training. I wanted to see how you react to surprise.” He plucked one of the Smuppets from the ground and held it gingerly, examining the fabric for dirt and the seams for damage from the assault. “You did alright, all things considered. Your immediate reaction was to fight back, and you make really hilarious expressions.” He shrugged. “Wish I could replicate them so you could see for yourself.”

“And how will any of this help with training?” Jane asked. Dirk motioned to the couches.

“Sit and I’ll hash it out with you. Nobody’s gonna give you crap for being in here if I’m here. We could take all day if we have to.”

And so, Jane sat. With every day, it seemed that the intense feelings from the beginning of the march were weakening the more time she spent with the Prince of Derse. Without their dizzying influence, Jane found her observations of his behavior to be clearer. Though he was impassive as ever, there was something about the way he moved that suggested excitement, as if he had been eager to teach her what he knew. No – he couldn’t be that happy just because of her. He must have been happy he had someone to teach at all.

“Duels,” He began when they were seated, “are unpredictable. Even when you know what both sides are capable of, what’s inhibiting them, you’re never gonna know exactly how it’s all gonna go down. The outcome’s a surprise, if you will.” Dirk propped his elbows on his knees and leaned forward, letting his chin come to rest in his hands. “There’s this idea that goes around and gets stuck in everybody’s head that you can learn to fight by rules, and keeping them to the letter means you’ll win. But really, that only takes you so far.”

Jane regarded him as coolly as she could, her brow furrowing. “I think I understand,” She said slowly, “Would that mean things like drills and forms are more of a base than an ultimatum?”

Dirk nodded. “You got it. Real fighting – and dueling too, no matter how showy it is – always requires you to think on your feet. You have an objective, and that’s to win, whatever it takes and whatever winning means in that moment.” He pointed to her. “I saw that in you just now, and though it was a pretty cheap win, you had some of it when you were dueling Megido. You watch what’s going on, and you do what you’ve gotta do when you get the chance.”

Jane’s eyebrows shot up. “You saw all of that in me?” He gave her a single, stoic nod, and she rolled her eyes. “I think you’re looking a bit too hard into this. I wasn’t thinking at all, I just got lucky. Didn’t you say I was lucky?”

“It was mostly luck, yeah. But you’ve still got it.” He leaned back into the couch, folding his hands and letting them rest on his chest. He really was an oddball, the Prince of Derse. “So that means you’re worth my time.”

She shook her head and grinned. “That’s an awfully strange way to go about it,” Jane said. Dirk shrugged.

“It worked, though.”

“I suppose it did,” She said, and she rose from the couch. “Would you like me to fetch my weapon now? I assume we’ll have to spar, at least.”

Dirk shook his head. “Nah, we’re not up to that yet. Smuppet Warfare, remember?”

Jane looked back to the pile of toys. “You cannot be serious.”

“I have never been more serious in my life, Jane.”

Somehow, she doubted that.

~*~

That morning was spent in the caravan, knee deep in puppet ass. How Dirk had managed to hide so many of these gangly-limbed dolls in the most unexpected of places was beyond Jane, but by the time noon had come, she was grateful that they were soft. Given how many times they had hit her head and face, if they were anything else she would be bruised all over. Plus, they were not exactly uncomfortable to lie on as she caught her breath. Dirk lounged on one of the couches, his gaze tilted to somewhere in space and one of the puppets perched in his lap. It was orange and threadbare, and he drummed his fingers on its head.  “Where did you even get these things?” Jane asked. She heard Dirk shift on the couch.

“I made ‘em myself.” His words were quiet; perhaps he was tired. Tossing Smuppets back and forth certainly took it out of you.

“My. my. I never would have pegged you as the sewing type, if I might be so bold.”

“Nobody’s around. Be as bold as you like.” Dirk ceased his drumming and held the orange Smuppet up for her to see it better. “This guy? First one I ever made. I think I was ten? I wasn’t too good at this thing then, you can tell because the seams aren’t as tight and his proportions are all kinds of off, but damn if I’m not proud of him.” He fell silent, and gave his puppet a thoughtful look. “Put a little bit of my soul into each and every one of these, you might say. Not literally of course. Can’t manage to do that yet.”

Jane perked up, and her brow creased in concern. “What do you mean, ‘yet’?”

“I mean what I mean.” He brought the Smuppet to his chest again. “Can’t do it yet. I could do it, in theory. Anyone who studies Heart as their Art could start cutting up souls and shoving them into figurative jars. I thought you were reading up on the Arts.”

In actuality, Jane had barely gotten a chance to look at the books since her first duel. She kept the book for Life close, though, and sometimes, when she got the chance, she would steal a glance or two at the pictures. She looked down at her lap, biting her lip, and when she did not answer, Dirk sighed.

“Okay. I’ll explain it.” The couch creaked as Dirk rolled over onto his stomach. Could he never sit still?  “Heart is about the soul. I know they call it Heart, but if you actually want to deal with cardiovascular crap, take my word for it and read up on Blood, its anatomy chapters are surprisingly enlightening. Heart’s about the nature of souls, the kinds of souls, how souls work, kooky philosophical shit like wondering if souls even exist, all that great stuff.  There’s even a love sonnet or two in there. But back to brass tacks, if you know how something works, you can take it apart, right?”

Jane nodded hesitantly. “I suppose, but if you argued that there wasn’t such a thing as a soul, why would learning how it worked matter?”

 “Those arguments are bullshit.” Dirk said it without missing a beat, his voice carrying more venom than she had ever heard before.” Just because it’s hard to explain or understand something doesn’t make it fake. But anyway, you get my point.”

“Well, like I said, I _suppose_ I do.” Jane plucked one from the pile from its nose. “But whyever would you want to put a part of your soul into something else? What would it even do in there, what purpose would it serve?”

Dirk shrugged. “Don’t know. I haven’t found information about what happens when people do it, but I know it’s possible. It’s gotta be.”

Jane looked at him then, really looked at him. Dirk seemed to be focused on the Smuppet in his grasp, but in reality, his gaze could have been anywhere. He had gone still and quiet, perhaps pondering what it would be like to leave a bit of one’s soul in a puppet. It was such a bizarre concept to Jane, and she could not imagine what it would be like to even entertain it as a possibility.

“You’re mad,” Jane said – not as an accusation, but as an observation. Dirk’s head tilted to her, and he cracked a grin.

“Just a bit.”

The caravan door creaked open, and from it issued a high-pitched shriek. They turned to see Dave clinging to the doorway.

“ _Bro_.”

Dirk lifted his hand and wiggled his fingers. “Hey little dude.”

“I don’t care where you put them,” Dave said; he looked ready to bolt, and his voice rose with every word, “Just get the creepy sex toys _OUT_ of this _ROOM_!!”

“The _what_?” Jane asked. She looked at the Smuppet in her hands, and Dave flailed.

“Jane, dude, drop that thing, you don’t know where it’s _been_!”

Now _that_ she could, unfortunately, imagine. Jane shrieked and threw the Smuppet, only realizing that she had thrown it at Dave when he let out another scream, and Dirk smirked all the while.

~*~

The screams from the royal caravan could be heard all the way down to the front of the war march, where Aradia and Sollux led the first and second battalions, marching ahead of everyone as their stations demanded. While even the most disciplined of soldiers turned back to see where the sound was coming from, Aradia just rolled her eyes.

“Sounds like the Heads of State are at it again,” She said. Next to her, a very quiet and grumpy Sollux grunted. He would stew like this for a while yet, this she knew from experience.

“Don’t you think they could at least bother to keep it down this time?” Aradia asked. She didn’t even get a grunt in response this time. “Mm, it’s a pain whenever they bug each other. Maybe it’s a human relation thing? It’s probably a human relation thing.”

The pair marched in silence for a while before Sollux cleared his throat. “Can we not do thith, AA? And don’t athk what ‘thith’ ith, you know what it ith.”

“Is it the thing where I talk to you, and you don’t respond, but I pretend you respond?” Aradia asked, grinning, “And I start implying that you’re saying crazier and crazier things until you blow up and deny everything?” Sollux shot her a grin through his grumpy demeanor.

“Pretty much. Thankth for thparing me from thaying it.”

“Anything for you, Sollux.” Aradia meant that, of course. She’d do anything for this troll, him out of all the others. Though she felt that it would be best if everyone were friends, Sollux had always been there for her, and she’d always been there for them; she liked to think they had been hatched to be friends. No one could take a bond like that away, and no other relationship could topple it. It was something neither of them could quite explain.

Sollux cleared his throat again. “I’m…thorry, by the way. About the duel thing.”

Aah, now that was what she was waiting for. “You’d better be sorry,” Aradia said. She tried to keep her voice low and calm, but she had been running on mild panic ever since the night before. “You stuck your toes into a huge mess, you _know_ I’ve been at this with Rose for a long time.”

Sollux sighed, and he slipped his hands under his spectacles to rub at his eyes. “I’m jutht tho tired of her treating you like…like _shit_ , AA.” Shit was one of Sollux’s favorite words, on account of it avoiding the usual bungling of his lisp, but he used it sparingly. “It can’t be about blood, humanth all have that grothh candy red blood, they don’t care. It’th probably becauthe Dave leth you get away with everything. Tho like, it’th a territory thing? I don’t know.”

“Does the why really matter?” Aradia asked. He glared at her from between his fingers, and she frowned. “If she hates me, she hates me, and I can’t change that. I don’t see why you want to make a big deal out of fighting for my honor, or whatever. And Jane! Why do you have to drag Jane into this?” Sollux scoffed and turned away, his hands sliding from his face to rest at his sides.

“It’th a methhage to R-Ethh,” He said. “I’m not going to take anybody’th _shit_ when it cometh to you, and I’ll do whatever it taketh to make them realize that..”

Aradia sighed. It was moments like these where she really wished they could sort themselves out and give a name to what they were. Not that she minded their ambiguity – not in the least! But sorting out Sollux was like herding cats to water. She nudged his shoulder with her own. “Are you sure your weird duality thing didn’t have anything to do with it?”

Sollux gave her a reluctant, wry smile. He never could resist things that came in pairs. “Eheh. It might’ve played a thmall part.”

~*~

When they stopped that night, the Lord actually left his caravan. “I heard that the Jane human. Would be in another duel,” He announced as he joined them at the campfire, cutting off Dave as he was about to launch into what had become his nightly introduction, “I want to observe.”

Everyone looked at each other with a mixture of fear and shock. How had he found out? And how could they refuse him? The fear he invoked pounded in their heads like rolling thunder, and even Jane wanted to trip over her feet to please him no matter how hard Kanaya squeezed her hand. So, when he insisted on another torch lit duel, they all shuffled into position, wearing sour expressions to contrast with his of malicious delight.

“What’th hith obthethhion with you, anyway?” Sollux whispered over his shoulder as they stood with their backs together. He fingered a borrowed sword at his side – who it belonged to, Jane could not begin to guess.

“I was his maid before this,” Jane explained, “I said as much to Aradia before the march.” And then, with a more biting tone, “As I recall, you were there.”

 “I wathn’t lithtening,” He said, “I had JK gabbing in my ear! Ath if I could hear whatever you and AA were talking about with him around.”

“You know Jake?” She asked. Sollux shrugged.

“Met him a couple timeth. The Douchelord of Derthe would keep him around for meetingth to fetch him water. JK wath prime entertainment, tho long ath you didn’t actually talk to him.”

“Captor!” The Lord bellowed, “I can hear you! Gibbering away like a horned monkey! You are wasting time! That could be spent on owning a prime bitch!” Sollux sighed, and Jane could feel his body tense. They parted to pace, turned on their heels, and bowed, all at Caliborn’s instruction. They drew their weapons without it.

It was Jane who came forward first, but not in a charge and not with a cry. She inched forward slowly, trident raised and a wary eye on her opponent, who had yet to move himself. The sword in his hand bobbed up and down, unsure and unsteady, and already Sollux looked uncomfortable, but he stood his ground.

As soon as the tips of her trident came close enough, Sollux’s face melted into something akin to amusement, and he tapped her weapon with his. Jane jerked back, and he laughed.

“Heh, don’t know why I wath worried,” He said, and he advanced.

While clearly not an expert, Sollux still had more experience with a sword than Jane did, and it was all she could do to keep him from pushing her back. His strokes were persistent, though, and back she went, another step with each hit. The important thing, however, was that with each hit she brought her trident up to meet it. Oh, he tried to push it away, to leave her open or fling it from her hands, but she kept her grip firm and watched him. She would not give him an opening, but if she could find one, then she could win. Jane only needed one – but then again, so did he.

He had been pushing her back for a minute when they finally came to a standstill with a great clash of metal. Sollux’s sword had come down into one of the groove of Jane’s trident, and he jerked it to the side. The trident was ripped from her grasp, tumbling before it fell to the grass.

“Holy shit, what an upset,” Dave shouted from the sidelines. He then squawked in pain; someone must have smacked him.

Sollux’s eyes were round behind his spectacles, and he looked at Jane in shock. “That wath…did I jutht win?” Jane nodded. Her insides had gone cold and stiff with fear. Would she be punished for losing? Would she be looked down upon, would no one hear her plight for Jake over a split second?

The sound of footsteps in the grass caught both their attentions, and they turned to see Rose approaching them. “So what do we do now, Lord Captor?” She asked. She did not bother to look at Jane at all. “We are evenly tied. Perhaps a discussion is needed in order to sort out our differences?”

Sollux shrugged, sheathing his borrowed sword. “I want AA to be there,” He said. Rose nodded.

“Understandable. Kanaya shall accompany me, then.”Sollux raised an eyebrow.

“You don’t want JN?” He asked. It took Jane a moment to realize that he was talking about her.

“I think she has had enough excitement for one night,” Rose said, and without another word, she turned and walked away. Sollux glanced at Jane and shrugged before he hurried after her, the lords and ladies dispersing in their wake. The Lord lingered, and he had placed a clawed hand on the shoulder of the Prince of Derse, keeping him in place. His eyes bore into Jane, and his mouth, gruesome as it was, turned up into a smirk.

“Bitches should learn their place,” She heard him rumble, “I suggest. That you dissuade the Jane human from this pedantic tomfoolery. And send her back to the scullery. Where she belongs.”

White hot anger surged within Jane, chasing away the fear that Caliborn had drummed up in her head. Her old master really was despicable, and she was sure he would like nothing more than to see her grovel for her old position back. To think he had the audacity to say something like that about her, and in public no less! Oh, if she could reach him, the things she would subject him to, no matter how much terror he sent through her veins…

Her thoughts were broken when Caliborn took his leave, and once he was shut away in his caravan, Dirk made his way towards her. His face was shockingly grim, raw in a way that was concerning, and that pushed her anger away in favor of a pang of pity. He made a beeline for her trident and picked it up, holding the handle out to her.

“Don’t listen to him,” Dirk said. He did not turn to look at her, choosing instead to stare off beyond the circle of caravans. “There’s no shame in losing. I don’t think anybody’s gonna really give a shit whether or not you won a Captor tantrum-induced fight. Besides, you know better than to let somebody pull that on you again now. Makes the whole thing a learning experience.”

Jane looked at the offered trident, then to Dirk. His hands were shaking. Had close contact with the Lord done that to him?

“Why?” She asked. Dirk inclined his head to her, but he did not prompt her. “Why do you care so much about what happens to me? It would be so much easier on you to do as the Lord says – why not listen to him?”

Before she could back away, Dirk had come close to her, and pressed the trident into her hands. “Because I can still choose not to,” He said, and the feelings Jane thought she had vanquished fluttered up anew.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little shorter than the other chapters, but this one went through the most revisions so far. That's probably because I didn't give as much thought to what I wanted to do with Sollux as I have with some of the other characters. It feels good to get over this chapter, though, and the chips will lie where they fall as events come into place!


	9. Porcelain

The next week of travel was surprisingly uneventful compared to the first three days. The daily march became a grind, for spring proper was slow to come to the Derse countryside, and there was little to see and less to enjoy. The troops could only find merriment amongst themselves for so long, and already they were beginning to tire, their conversations falling into lengthy lulls more and more often as they trudged through too-cool days. The Lords and Ladies had begun to calm down, growing accustomed to the life of the march and less irritable with each other. It all meant more peace for Jane, even if her afternoons had been commandeered by the Prince of Derse. After her duel with Sollux, Dirk had been insistent that she train with him. What he had said about choice still flustered her and drummed up those suspicious feelings, but she grit her teeth and fought through it.

Dirk’s idea of training would always begin during lunch at some point, where a Smuppet would lie in wait for Jane where she least expected it. Luncheon was always taken in the caravans with everyone else, and by the third day of their training Dave had taken to eating his with the other nobles, for he truly could not stand his brother’s toys. “I have seen him act out things with them that would make the skin crawl off your fucking body, Jane,” He had told her in warning. Honestly? After the initial shock, Jane had dismissed his claims. Yes, Smuppets were ridiculous, and yes, their features did suggest… _things_. But unless she saw them used for such nefarious purposes, she would not believe it. Dirk had a genuine affection for them; it was a passion one has for a hobby they are particularly good at. In a way, he was showing off, and it was childish and silly and not princely at all, but many of the things he did were not very princely. She should have figured as much; she still remembered what he had said when they first met, after all, about dropping pretense and doing good as Princes were known to do. Even so, with each little bit she learned about Dirk, the more interesting he became to her. She _wanted_ to unravel this mystery of a boy who sat atop the world in his amethyst tower. She wanted to get to know him, to understand him. Heck, if she could get a straight answer out of him about his thoughts on Jake, maybe she wouldn’t have to curry the favor of the lords and ladies. Maybe _he_ could help her somehow.

But that was far too much musing on her part. There was more to training than Smuppets, after all. In the later parts of the afternoon, when both of them had conceded to each other, they relaxed in the caravan. Most of the time they retired to their lofts, and Jane would bury her nose in the Book of Life to help squash down these bothersome and mysterious feelings. It worked, too, for they would get lost in the pictures and the passages. Her mind became a swirl of budding plants and insects emerging from cocoons, of ducks still sticky from their eggs and something deep and strong and older than she could fathom. The book became a companion to Jane, and though she was careful with it, the spine began to crease in the places she opened it to the most.

“Listen to this,” Jane said on the fifth day of training. She and Dirk were lying about the lower level of the caravan, and she had not found a Smuppet yet. “‘Even the heavens must obey what nature has consecrated as law’. I never thought that nature _could_ make laws. You don’t think the writer meant it literally, do you?”

Dirk shrugged from the floor. He had the map of Prospit furled out in front of him, and was in the process of marking it with tiny needles with flags affixed to the top. “Who could say but the writer? Though the way I understand it, nature’s got rules. Structures. Peixes – Lady Peixes,” he clarified, “She showed me some crazy stuff once. Magnified pictures of skin and hair and leaves and shit, and they’re all made of these tiny little bits that’re made of tinier little bits. They’ve all gotta work the same way in order to keep everything alive, right?”

Jane hummed. “I suppose that makes sense. I’ve never really given something like that much thought.”

“Well, if you’re enjoying that book as much as I think you are, maybe you should.” His gaze rose from the map to meet hers. “Who knows? Life could very well be your thing, Miss Jane.”

She chuckled, and looked back to the passage. “I haven’t even looked through any of the other books properly! You can’t be too sure.”

“You say that now, but watch. It’ll sneak up on you.” He in turn looked back to his map, and stuck a flagged needle into the capital of Prospit with particular zeal. “Every once in a while, someone’s art is pretty obvious. Like with Rose? Shit, me and Dave used to joke that she could literally make the sun shine out her ass-”

“Don’t you mean ‘Dave and I’?” Jane asked.

Dirk shook his head. “Nope. Definitely meant what I said.”

She rolled her eyes. “Okay, if you insist. So, there are some people whose Art is apparent. What about when it’s not apparent? Wouldn’t they have to study them all until something clicks?”

“They would.” Dirk stilled, a needle in his fingers, poised to place. “That’s how I ended up reading a bit of everything.”

Jane felt her eyebrows go up. “Did the Art of Heart really take that long to come to you? A Prince, of all people?”

“Being a Prince means jack shit to an intangible force.” He sighed, and put the needle down. “And our Lord insisted I study Time under him for years. Was one hell of a stickler about it, too, even when it was obvious that I couldn’t do it, but he wouldn’t let it drop. He even hid books on the other arts when he found me reading them.”

Slowly, Jane closed her book and placed it on her lap. “So what did you do?” She asked.

“I did what any little thirteen year old shit does, obviously. I nicked books from everyone else. Well,” And he looked back at Jane, “That’s not entirely true. Feferi and Eridan, yes, I kind of had to. Aradia I didn’t bother with, I already knew way too much about Time than I ever cared to know, and I ended up teaching everything to Dave when I wasn’t researching things myself. Sollux, yeah, had to take his book. I didn’t have to take Equius’s book, though. Rose’s sister had been studying the same Art as he was before she…well.” Dirk made a flippant gesture, but Jane was sure to keep this bit of information to herself. She was still curious about this mysterious Lalonde and where they could have gone. “If nobody was studying it here, then I would have to beg one of the others to ask Jake to get it for me from the Lord’s house.”

Jane’s brows knitted together. “You never asked him yourself?”

Dirk sighed. “I wanted to. The Lord was smart enough not to let us interact, though. He figured I’d try to bribe him. It’s not like it was a secret that he was a ward, he toted around the same surname for fuck’s sake. But the others? Caliborn didn’t give a shit if they talked to him.” He picked up a needle again and idly affixed it to the map. “So I just sort of bribed them with pound cake. They did whatever they had to do with Jake, and I got my books. Simple as that.”

It was certainly a roundabout way to get what he wanted, but he claimed that it worked. If she got the chance, Jane would have to ask Jake if that were true. He never once indicated that it might be, but then again, how could she have known of all this when it was happening? She had kept her nose to the grindstone that was servitude. Still, there was one question left unasked. “Was the Book of Heart among them?”

He shook his head. “No, actually. Heart was different.” He stuck a needle in the mass that represented the Scratchlands. “We had six nobles when I was a kid – the five trolls you’ve met, and another one. Her name was Nepeta.”

“Did she study Heart?” Jane asked. Dirk groaned.

“Geez, Jane, way to break the tension of my story.”

“Sorry.” She gave him an apologetic grin. “But it was obvious from the way you introduced her that she played a big part in shaping your studies! I’m not a dim bulb, Dirk, I can piece a climax together.”

The Prince let out a huff. “Call it whatever you want, but you still cock blocked my reveal. You’re lucky you’re right.” He paused, perhaps so he would not have to speak over her chuckling. “But anyway, yeah. I had tried to nab her book myself, but she caught me. She was really good at surprise attacks and sneaking around, and she was madder than cats on a sinking ship.” His mouth quirked up at the sides. “Couldn’t even pacify her with catnip. I tried. Thought it worked, she rubbed some on her face like an actress hamming up her performance for a terrible script, but after a minute she threw it back at me and hissed.”

Jane raised an eyebrow, but he continued. “We traded insults for a little while, but finally I ended up explaining what I was doing. She was surprisingly nice about everything, then. She even offered to tutor me in Heart, and the more I learned, the more…” He gestured vaguely with his hands. “It just came together. It felt right. It took a while, but soon I could start figuring things out about people’s souls. Little things, like what components made up different kinds, and how to tap into them. Get people to do what you want.”

Jane stilled. Her grip tightened on her book. “That’s…awfully frightening to hear,” She said, though frightening did not begin to cover it.

 “I didn’t make it a secret that knowing how shit works is kind of my thing,” Dirk said, “You can take it apart. You can put it together. You can change it. You’ve just got to know the parts.” With that, he stood, and picked up the map as he went. It was still full of pins, and he hung it on the caravan wall. “I’m not trying to scare you. It’s not like I can reach into your soul and pretend you’re a ventriloquist dummy, don’t worry about that. That wouldn’t be right.”

Though he was nonchalant about such claims, Jane could not stay calm. How much of what Dirk had done for her been genuine, then? How much of it had been manipulation – and to what end? Jane narrowed her eyes. She did not like the feeling that began to rise within her, for it was nothing but panic for her safety and anger that someone could have been using her, and she would be none the wiser. There was a shot of pain, too, when she remembered that Dirk could have his eye on her cousin. What could this use of Heart do to poor Jake, who didn’t even know himself?

Jane could think of nothing else for the rest of the day, and for the two hazy days that came after. Training was blurs of color and felt, and Jane tried very hard not to let her concerns show. That would require her to explain them, should someone notice how she had changed, and she did not nearly have enough clout to garner help. Dirk was the same as ever, sarcastic and clever, and not once did he bring up the subject of Heart again. At night, Jane would lie in bed and wonder why, her curiosity triumphing over the weakening, foreign feelings.

At the beginning of the new week, on the eleventh day of the march, the many troops of Derse came upon the town of Veil. It was a simple town with simple people, but it was the first settlement anyone had seen since they had left the capitol, and it was a welcome respite from the promise of war that loomed on the horizon. Everyone marched inside, and the people celebrated in their wake.

The Mayor of Veil came to call at their caravan as soon as they rolled into town, and after him the other nobles filed in, sans the Lord. The Mayor was a small and excitable man, and he literally trembled in Dirk’s presence, but if it bothered him the Prince of Derse did not show it. He was calm, and he gave the Mayor his equivalent of a smile as he proposed that the entire march stay in town and rest for three days.

“The only thing I ask,” Dirk told him, “Is that you put the troops themselves up in actual beds and stuff. Inns, boarding houses, any place that has a bed to spare – they’ve got it, you put them in it. We,” And he gestured to all those who had gathered behind him, nobles and relations and Jane, “Have beds in our caravans. We’ll take care of ourselves. The troops need the break a lot more than we do.”

No one objected. At least, not in the presence of the Mayor, who nodded and smiled and promised them access to whatever they needed to refresh and restock for their journey. If there were any complaints, Jane did not hear them, for as soon as the Mayor left, everyone rushed forward to leave the caravan, and she was swept up in the rush. Nobility, it seemed, was just as eager for a change of scene as anyone else their age.

The town of Veil was remarkably quaint. While the capitol was a sprawling mess of closeness with urban rot creeping in from its edges, this place was airy and bright. The cobblestone roads had been scrubbed clean, and every window toted a box of flowers, their buds still shut tight to the world. Jane would have assumed things were always this way, if there weren’t mothers hanging Dersite banners from laundry lines and on doors as the troops dispersed into the town. Clearly, they had known the war march would find itself here, and it made sense that they did. The whole country of Derse must have known war was at hand, and the trek of the march must have been the hottest news on the stands. Towns across the land must have their eyes trained to the wilds, wondering if the great party would grace it with their presence.

The townspeople were nothing but accommodating, or at least it seemed that way to Jane. They welcomed the troops into their homes, offered them food and comforting items, laughed with and embraced these armed strangers. Jane had not seen kindness like this in the capitol, but perhaps that was because her experience there was so different, and her station gave her a different meaning. Before, she had just been another face in the crowd, nothing significant. Here, even the sparest of glances from the locals was warm and meant for her, simply because she was part of the march. Her pendant felt heavy on her chest, and she wondered how their faces would change if they knew who she really was.

Veil was not as large as the capitol by any means, so it made sense that, as she walked the streets, she would see the other nobles. She had spotted Rose and Kanaya step into a bookstore with particular reverence, their fingers intertwined behind their backs. When she passed through the town’s tiny market, she heard Dave complementing a woman’s tiny stall of apples in rhythmic rhyme, and nearby, Aradia and Sollux snickered as he stacked metaphor atop metaphor of praise. She lingered on the edges of a crowd that had formed around a fountain, where the purple troll – Eridan, she reminded herself – was struggling to remove the excited magenta troll – _Feferi!_ Why was she still struggling with names? – from the water, her glubs echoing through the square.

As Jane continued to wander, she thought she spotted a familiar figure from afar. The same build, the same messy hair, the same boisterous laugh – it was Jake! What luck! She hurried forward, and she could not fight the grin that spread on her face. Even if he couldn’t remember, it would still be nice to hear how he was doing!

A blur appeared at Jake’s side, and it stopped Jane in her tracks. As the blur cleared, she could make out another familiar figure – of a different build, with different messy hair, with the pointy edges of his ridiculous spectacles poking out from the sides. Jane’s breath caught in her throat.

“‘Sup, English,” Said the Prince of Derse, and Jane found herself scrambling for cover. Before she could realize how silly it was to hide, she had crouched down behind a pair of barrels, and she watched as the boys came to a halt. Jake jerked away with a cry of surprise.

“Y-Your Majesty!” Jake exclaimed. He flailed a bit and teetered on his feet. “You startled me, sire!” When Dirk did not respond, Jake managed to steady himself, and he leaned in. “Er, might there be something I can help you with?”

Dirk sniffed. “No. Not really. I just thought that since you were out here, and I was out here, I should, you know, say hello. See how you were doing.” He stepped back to give Jake a bit of space, and he folded his arms across his chest. “So how’re you doing?”

“Oh!” Jake’s shoulders dropped, coiled tension leaving them, and he grinned as brightly as ever. “I’m as bright eyed and bushy tailed as when we started, Your Majesty! How nice of you to ask!”

“Don’t sweat it, English. Just doin’ my princely duty. Bein’ a gentleman and all that jazz.” Dirk shifted subtly from one foot to the other, and it struck Jane as… _awkward_. His stance was all wrong, his words did not flow with ease. Through the suspicion and the fear, Jane felt something bloom inside of her, like a droplet of blood in a clear glass of water, but she could not name it.

“By the way,” Dirk said, and he cleared his throat, “I got the Mayor of Veil to put everybody up in real beds. I also told him how hard you’ve been working. You’re like a man possessed, keeping everyone in line.”

Jake laughed and rubbed his neck. “Well, gee, I don’t think I’m all that, but I do try.”

“And I see that.” Dirk just could not keep still no matter what, could he? Even from here, Jane could see him drum his fingers on his arm. “Which is why I insisted that you get set up in the best room Veil has to offer. It’s yours.”

Jake’s jaw dropped, and his eyes went wide behind his spectacles. “What – but Your Majesty! You didn’t have to do that-”

“I was happy to do it. People who work hard should be rewarded, don’t you think?”

After a moment of disbelief, Jake shook his head. “No, Your Majesty, I couldn’t accept anything like that! I fulfill my duties because I want to, not for any sort of boon-”

Dirk was at Jake’s side in a flash. “I insist,” He said. The boys looked at each other for a moment, and Jane could feel the tension prickling up her spine. This was it, she thought, this was the Prince making a tentative move. He was setting his needles in the map that was her dear cousin, and all she could do was watch.

The moment was broken by Jake’s laugh. He casually hooked his thumbs in the waistband of his pants and bowed his head. “Oh, no, really, I couldn’t! I’d rather bunk with the lads, if you don’t mind. Keeps me from getting too big a head about all this, you see! And no one likes a leader with an ego the size of the moon, at least I think so.”

At his words, Dirk stilled, and that was how Jane knew he was not expecting that response – sadly, she did. Jake had a tendency to be oblivious about things, even before someone had meddled with his memory. He could not infer Dirk’s obvious interest in him. He thought the offer came with no strings attached, and he, as an upstanding Page, could not bring himself to accept it. Without realizing it, he had shot down the beginnings of the Prince’s plot, and had sent him for a loop. That was when Jane knew what the feeling inside of her was.

The boys parted after that, and Jane waited until both of them were far, far away before she emerged. She rubbed her eyes tiredly.

“Oh my God,” She muttered to herself, “I…what is this? I feel _sorry_ for him?” She sat down on one of the barrels. “Why in heaven’s name should I feel sorry for him?” For a moment, she wondered if it was even her own feeling at all, but that was quickly squashed. The mysterious feelings had kept themselves to blind adoration, so this had to be something new. She turned everything she knew about Dirk over in her mind, but she could see no connection, and sighed.

There was a soft cough from behind her, and Jane yelped, her body jolting to attention as she turned around. Without her noticing, one of the nobles had sneaked up behind her – it was the blue troll, and though his name escaped her, she would recognize him from anywhere. From size alone he was intimidating, and his spectacles, darkened and cracked as they were, didn’t help matters either. He had long hair and a broken horn, and his clothes, fine as all nobles’ clothes were, always seemed more wrinkled and worn than those of his contemporaries. Up close, she could see a stud of iolite in the lobe of each ear.

The blue troll coughed again. “Pardon my intrusion upon your thoughts,” He said, his voice a deep rumble, “But, you are the only one of our circle who I have seen nearby, and, I would not want to ask a stranger for assistance.”

Jane blinked. “Assistance?”

“Yes.” He coughed, and Jane noticed sweat beginning to form at his temples. “I know it is…unorthodox…for someone such as myself to ask assistance from the Lady-in-Waiting of another noble, but…I would not ask if it was not of the upmost importance.”

That made Jane’s back straighten a bit, and she regarded the troll curiously. “If it’s really that much trouble, how are you sure I can help, Lord…”

“Zahhak,” He supplied, “Equius Zahhak. And I am very certain you can help. Yes. Yes, you can help.”

He beckoned her to follow, and Jane did so. What could she do? Rose would be more than happy to have her back if she said no, Jane was certain of that, but she did not want to put the Duchess through anything else. Besides, though the lords and ladies had made their comments towards him before, and Jane had heard them, she had not seen much evidence of their claims. She did not know him, and thus, did not think she could judge him. And he had asked for help! Whatever someone of his strength needed help with must certainly be insurmountable indeed.

Lord Zahhak led her to a teeny china shop, of all places, and inside a clerk was waiting, a small box on the counter before him. He pointed to it.

“I would be indebted to you,” He began, “If you could help me transport this purchase to my caravan.”

Jane looked at it with one eyebrow cocked before she turned to the blue troll. “Surely you can carry such a tiny thing on your own, can’t you?”

He shook his head fervently, the sweat beading up on his forehead. “I…could not! Not without breaking the contents!” Jane looked to the clerk, who shrugged and gave her an apologetic smile. She sighed.

“If you insist, Lord Zahhak,” She said, and she picked up the box. It was very light, and she wondered why he was so convinced that he could not carry it himself. She fell behind him and followed him all the way to the caravans, which had been lined up on the other side of town and were being cleaned and prepared for their journey onward. She had never looked too closely at the caravans of the other lords and ladies, but she knew Lord Zahhak’s from the royal blue paint on the outside, and the black symbol on the door, something like a cross and an arrow. He opened the door for her, and let her enter first.

When Jane stepped in the caravan, she was struck with how stark it was. She had thought the Royal Caravan was a downgrade from the level of luxury the Princes and Duchess enjoyed every day, but in here, the walls were bare and rough, and there was little in the way of comfort. In one corner was a strange, lumpy pod, inside of which Jane could see a viscous green fluid, and she wrinkled her nose at the sight. On the other side of the caravan, taking up the entire wall, a long table had been set up, and it was littered with tools and bits of machinery that Jane could not even begin to understand. There was one lone chair at the table, made of steel, and above the table hung a long shelf full of porcelain objects.

Jane was immediately drawn to the objects, for they had to be the most fragile and luxurious thing this troll had. The main pieces seemed to be an old teapot with black marks at the bottom, and two mismatched teacups. They looked as if they had become worn out of beloved use. Around them had been positioned numerous figurines. Some were of horses, and Jane even spotted the rare unicorn, but the majority of them were cats. Wild cats, domestic cats, cats in trousers and coattails and cats sprawled in cups, scruffy cats and prim cats and almost every kind of cat under the sun. Each one looked to be in perfect condition, with nary a scratch or chip or speck of dust to be seen, and, curious, Jane began to open the little box in her hands.

Inside the box was the smallest and smoothest of porcelain cats Jane had ever seen. It had been glazed olive green, and round marks in the color showed where little beads of paint had popped, spreading royal blue speckles on the cat’s coat. It had crouched on a ball of bright red yarn, and looked up at its gazer with little yellow eyes.

“How cute!” Jane said, and she shifted onto her tip toes to place the cat with its fellows. There were a great many tiny pegs in shelf, she realized, and she carefully placed the new addition snugly between three of them. “And how clever! The pegs must keep them still while your caravan is moving!” She turned to Lord Zahhak, who had stopped just inside the doorway. “That’s how it works, right?”

It took a moment, but Lord Zahhak came to his senses again and coughed. “Uh, yes,” He said, and he stepped forward to join her. “That is exactly right. I designed this shelf myself, though its mechanisms were far too minute and flimsy for me to produce. I enlisted help. It is difficult – neigh,” And he paused to take something from his desk. When he patted it against his temples, Jane saw it was a small towel. “It is impossible to jostle these curios from their place. It can even be removed from this wall and placed above my work desk at home, without incident…although, I leave that to someone with a gentler touch than mine.”

Jane nodded. “I see. They must be awfully important to you, if you’re so careful with them.”

“They are.” While his spectacles were dark and cracked, it was easy for Jane to read his eyes from the side. They were riveted on the figurines, misty and rimmed with blue. She turned back to the shelf. It would not do to bother him as to why they were so important.

There was still one thing Jane did not understand. “So why couldn’t you bring the cat back yourself?” She asked, and she idly fiddled with its box in her hands. “It wasn’t heavy! I’ve seen you dig pits that would take grown men twice as long to get half as far. It’s really not an effort at all.”

The patting of the towel slowed, and Lord Zahhak lowered it from his brow. “Lady Jane,” He said, and that surprised her, for she had interacted with him so little before, and hadn’t expected him to even bother to learn her name. He held the towel in front of him, a thumb and forefinger at opposing corners. “My…strength…is indeed the issue. But not for the reasons you assume. Allow me to demonstrate.”

Then, as if were a piece of tissue paper and not a towel in his hand, the blue troll tore it in two jagged halves. Jane’s jaw dropped.

“As you can see,” He said, forging ahead despite what should be an impossibility in his hands, “My strength is something that cannot be trifled with. I do not have much control. Even in a well-padded box, the little cat would have been crushed by my hand.” He shook his head. “That is something I refuse to let happen.”

Jane felt her eyes go wide. She got a distinct feeling from his words, something like fierce care simmering on a stove, on the brink of roaring into a full boil. After spending so much time with folks who were constantly guarded and difficult to read, it was…jarring. But oh, it was so very intriguing at the same time! “It’s quite generous of you,” Jane said, “Sharing your love for your figurines with me, I mean.” She felt the troll’s eyes on her, and her back stiffened a little.

“If it is awkward, do not think much of it,” He said. She shook her head.

“No! No, it’s not… _awkward_.” It really was, in a way. “It’s sweet! Really, it is. I am honored to have been in their presence!!”

How could a person be honored by porcelain? If asked to explain herself, Jane would have floundered even more, but Lord Zahhak did not insist. He made something that could have been half a smile instead.

“Well. Thank you for your assistance.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this chapter is a bit different from the others! I think my Sagittarius bias might be showing, but then again, it is the best sign. I should know. It's mine.
> 
> And Walt Disney's. And Tyra Banks's.
> 
> Okay, alright, that's enough fooling around from me! You may notice that there are a couple new tags for this fic! I'll do my best to update them as it continues.


	10. Reason

As interesting as the porcelain figurines were, Jane could not intrude upon Lord Zahhak’s hospitality for long. It would be rude of her to, since he only invited her in for her assistance. When Jane bid him goodbye, she returned to the town in search of Jake, but come sunset, she had explored the town thrice to no avail, and she trudged back to the caravans with a heavy heart.

She arrived only to be welcomed by more townspeople and a plate was pushed into her hand. After they had been generous enough to clean the caravans, they had pulled together a grand communal meal for their guests and for themselves. The fare was simple; there were winter vegetables that were just on the edge of spoiling, old rice that had waited, withered and dry, at the bottoms of burlap sacks. Any meat had been salted and smoked to preserve it, the scent heavy in the air. It was all winter surplus, and it wasn’t the finest, but there was a surprising amount of it for a small town, and it made Jane wonder just how much they were putting into this welcome. Did they have enough to last them until the first spring crops came in? She ate a bit of what she’d been given out of politeness, but most of her food went untouched.

As per the agreement with the people of Veil, the troops bunked in homes and inns, and the royalty slept on in their caravans. Jane could not bring herself to sleep, even if Kanaya’s presence and piled blankets had by now become comfortingly familiar. When the morning came, she was ravenous, though the food the townspeople again offered did not sit well in her stomach, and she ate little. If anyone noticed, they did not say anything, but perhaps that was because their focus had been drawn someplace else. The Lord had decided to grace the town with his visage, and when he was not reducing its people to quaking masses, he was snarling in displeasure, drawing Dirk aside and complaining as loudly as he could. It was as if he wanted to be sure that everyone heard of his grievances, and, sadly, it did not surprise Jane in the least.

“We should be on the move,” He said the most, “Do you really want. Those smug Prospitian fuckers. To think we’re cowards by diddling around here?” His attempts to guilt the Prince were obvious, and while the Lord still stirred Jane’s fears, his actions sickened her. He’d done the same to her many a time, when she was a child who could barely keep from tripping over her own feet and skirts. “I can’t believe. That someone as useless as you. Was worth something even to my sister,” had been a common insult, and remembering the words made Jane clench her jaw.

There was less excitement today, for the town was less new, and from the Lord’s goading, the nobility were called together in Veil’s town hall. It was mandatory for Jane to tag along, or at least, that was how Rose put it when she drew her aside. “I’d let you skip all this if presence wasn’t so important,” She said softly as they shuffled inside a room with a round table and many chairs. Kanaya had bid them farewell at the door, and the Duchess looked a bit wan without her. She had taken Jane’s hand, but it was always shifting, as if the skin and the grip were not quite right to its touch.

“What is it even for?” Jane asked as they sat. Upon the table, Jane could see Dirk’s map of Prospit, its many flagged needles standing at attention. The Prince himself leaned towards it from his place at the table, his focus intense, and the lords and ladies also eyed it. If Jane wanted to guess, she would say that this looked like a meeting to plan strategy.

From beside Dirk, Dave cleared his throat. “Aiight, so we’re all here,” He said, and he acknowledged everyone with a nod, “Now, apparently, word on the grapevine is that we’re a bunch of lazy schmucks who have no plan of attack. My personal opinion? Prospit is still an assload of travel away, and we don’t need to worry about plans until we get to the Scratchlands at least-”

“Dave human. You are rambling,” Said Lord Caliborn.

Dave’s back stiffened. “Yeah, well,” He drawled, “You’re the guy complaining that we’ve done jack shit, of course you don’t want to hear me preface anything.”

“Don’t start with him, Dave,” Dirk said, and he stood from his chair, quieting his brother. “If it gets me some peace and quiet, we’ll do what Caliborn says and get down to business.” He paused, and turned to Dave. “Oh, hey, there you go. Write a rap for me. Get down to some real business.”

“Dude, are you serious? No, I thought we all had to give our input-”

“ _You_ don’t think this is important right now. When we’re at the Scratchlands, then you can join in with the grown-ups.” The brothers stared each other down, emotions veiled, stances tense, before Dave looked away and let out a sigh – a concession out of necessity.

“That better be a promise, bro,” Dave said, and he slumped back in his chair, tapping the edges of the table with the tips of his fingers. After a few tries, he found a beat, and he stuck to it as the meeting commenced.

“Right, well,” Dirk started, and he reached over to tap his map. “I got a bit of intel from our dear, all-seeing Duchess,” and he gestured to Rose, who gave him an easy, chilled smile in return, “And I’ve been pouring over my maps, so basically, what I’m thinking is this.”

With a scrape of his chair, Dirk had left the table, and he circled around it, arms behind his back and pace slow. “Prospit has made a statement,” He began, and his voice rose to a strength that Jane did not know he had. “By letting even the tiniest rumor loose, they’ve alerted us to a threat to our independence, and we can’t take that lying down.” He stopped his pacing for a moment, and looked to those at the table, meeting every set of eyes. “If we’re going in, we’re going in with pistols blazing, banners flying, shit being wrecked on all sides. I want to charge into battle head on, and I want to be at the front.”

The room of nobles was silent, save for the tapping of Dave’s fingers and a cough, though from whom none could tell.

“Well don’t jump up all at once,” Dirk said, and he resumed his pacing.

“It’s called takin’ your w-wiley human ideas into consideration,” Said Eridan, slumping back in his chair and looking down his nose at the map before them. “And to be honest, if you’d ewen studied Prospitian w-war history, you’d know-w that’s a crock a shit plan.”

Sollux snorted. “Like you’re an expert, ED,” He said, and the purple troll shot him a startlingly nasty glare.

“Sol, I sw-wear, this ain’t the time for shit-stirrin, first of all!” He pounded his fist into the table. “And second – don’t you _smirk_ at me, don’t start – I’m more an expert than all a you put together!” He jabbed a finger at the map with a flourish. “Derse has been goin’ to w-war w-with these peasants for centuries! You’d think one a our illustrious ancestors w-would hawe the common decency an w-wit to w-write dow-wn ewerythin’ goin’ on, and they hawe! A lot of them did! And they all say the same fuckin’ thing!”

Next to him, Feferi rolled her eyes. “Not everybuoy is as interested in what the tide of time drags in as you are Eridan,” She said, and she reached a hand out and patted his fist. He let out a sigh at her touch.

“I know-w, Fef,” Said Eridan. His voice had been drained of its fervor, and he slowly uncurled his fist to hold her hand as he turned to face Dirk, who took him in with cool regard. “But to my point! Prospit alw-ways sits on their ass until w-we get to their front door, and then they barrel through us until it’s just both sides a nobles at each other’s protein chutes. You really w-wanna risk chargin’ the fuckin’ battlements and puttin’ your head on the line?”

Dirk didn’t miss a beat. “Then if I’m recalling Derse battle records right,” He said, “Prospit was only able to drive us back in most skirmishes because we put our smallest companies at the front. And, not to point the finger, but…” He looked to Aradia and Sollux, who stiffened. “They happened to be led by the Families Megido and Captor.”

“But you cannot fault them for the mistakes of their ancestors,” Rose said. Dirk nodded.

“I said smallest, Rose,” He answered, “Not weakest. Which is why I think pressing our larger companies to the front would shock the flood of resistance. I just want to lead to make our stance obvious. Give ‘em a damn good reason to wet themselves, as it were. We’ll be riding into the Palace of Prospit on piss, ladies and gents.”

For that, Dave paused in his thrumming and applauded, while most of the other nobles rolled their eyes. Jane, however, was in a state of shock, and the weight of her hidden pendant was heavier than ever. In her mind, she could imagine Prospit, happy and golden, with her Madame at the center of all. And then to be overtaken by Dersite purple, to see the soldiers tramping in and overwhelming everything…it struck a pang in Jane’s heart, and she felt so foolish sitting here, when she could stand by the Madame’s side and block against such an attack. Although she barely knew them, the Prospitians were Jane’s people, and to have it finally sink in that yes, they were in grave danger by those she had taken up with, was horrifying. Perhaps she would have spoken up, then, questioned this war for her own head and begged for another option, but it was then that Equius raised his hand.

“Pardon me if I am mistaken,” He said, “Though I am certain that is not the case, but…I do not see the issue. Do the perils of the front lines not fit those of a less…dignified hue?”

Dirk stilled again, and he did not lift his stare from the empty space before him. “Zahhak,” He said with warning, “That’s got nothing to do with it. Drop that hot little train of thought right now.”

“But you must admit,” Equius pressed, “That Derse traditions would not have been put in place, nor would they still be so prevalent, were they not useful-”

“It’s not useful if it doesn’t work, Equius!” Aradia said. She rose abruptly from her chair and glared at the blue troll from her side of the table. “If Dirk doesn’t want Sollux and I out in front, then we’ll fall back. His word trumps tradition!”

“Oh…” Beads of sweat began to form at Equius’s temples, and he scrambled for a towel. Upon finding one, he blotted his face very carefully. “Of course, if His Majesty wished you to fall back, then please do so. I would not question a direct order. However, as past experience illustrates, the companies led by those of a lower hemocaste made excellent cannon fodder. It is their rightful place.”

Aradia slammed her hands down on the table, and it shook. Her teeth were bared, her head lowered to display her horns, her nostrils flaring. “My soldiers fight and train just as hard as yours! My blood’s got _nothing_ to do with their worth!” She panted for a moment or two, glaring daggers, and Equius swallowed audibly, pressing the towel to his face with renewed fervor.

“Oh, fiddlesticks,” He said. The towel was smudged completely blue. “I don’t suppose this is some sort of…blossoming black solicitation, is it? I cannot bring myself to hate you, Megido, despite my-”

There was a throaty yell, and Aradia glowed white. The map of Prospit on the table, flags and all, was thrown from the table. It collided into Equius with a loud smack, and his horn tore through it from the force of the hit. The nobles immediately erupted into chaos and fighting, spurred on by the burst of violence – red and blue sparked from Sollux, sending small objects soaring through the air; Eridan had clamored for cover and tried to pull Feferi with him, but she resisted, eager to get in the middle of things; Rose had slipped out of the room, and Lord Caliborn let out a stilted, bellowing laugh, giddy fear rolling off of him in waves.

The only one calm in all of this mess was Dirk. “Well, fuck me for using the good map,” He said, and he rubbed his eyes.

Jane looked to him, the only still figure in a room full of movement, and frowned. “Do something!” She shouted to him over the din. His gaze flicked to her, and an eyebrow rose over the rim of his spectacles. He gestured to the feuding room, as if to say, ‘Like what?’

Oh, Jane thought, that was _it_. She leapt from her chair and pushed herself between Aradia and Equius. The glow still exuded from Aradia, and Equius was visibly shaking, from what emotion Jane was not sure she wanted to know. The map lay damaged and stained on the ground.

“Now that is quite enough!” Jane said. “The both of you need to cut this out! Isn’t this a serious meeting?” The trolls leaned closer, glaring eyes locked on each other, and Jane pressed a hand to each chest to keep them apart. “Hey! You listen to me, both of you – this is _intolerable_!”

It was not the words themselves that drained some of the anger from the pair, but the force in them, a demand and strength that Jane had never known she could wield. While still quite cross, they drew back to regard Jane, and she looked between them. The others had ceased their theatrics to watch, Dirk in particular with an almost curious expression on his face.

“Jane” Aradia said, her teeth still bared, “He’s being a jerk and he’s _hitting on me_ at the same time-”

“I am _not_ being a _jerk_ , as you put it,” Equius insisted. He had balled up the towel in his fists. “I am merely pointing out the truth of her station as a lowblood! And _she_ -” There was a tearing sound, and the towel dropped to the ground in two pieces, “Is the one who is soliciting _me_! In a completely inappropriate quadrant, I might add!”

They were drawing closer again, and Jane pushed them back. Aradia gave to her touch, but Equius was quite steadfast. “I have no idea what a quadrant is,” Jane said, “And now is not the time for me to ask! Now is the time for you two to make decisions that could make or break something that is going to affect lots and lots of people, Prospit and Derse alike!” She turned her gaze to Equius. “And you are too being a jerk! Aradia is Derse Nobility, just the same as you are!” Her eyes had narrowed, and she had drawn closer to Equius, who had lost the hard anger in his face in exchange for a flabbergasted look. He began to step back. “I might not understand these ‘traditions’, but I do understand blatant rudeness, and I will not stand for it, especially when it upsets my friends! I…” She took a breath, and gave herself a moment to doubt what she wanted to say next. There was no way she could back it up on her own, but she had to make a point. “I challenge you to a duel!”

Everyone in the room was breathless, mouths agape. Even Dave had ceased his tapping.

“Are you…” Equius cleared his throat, sweat pouring down his face in long blue lines. “Are you certain you wish to go through with such a proposition? A Lady in Waiting making such a bold statement without her Lady in attendance…”

“This hasn’t a thing to do with Rose,” Jane said. She finally withdrew her hand, doing her best to ignore how damp it had become. “And if it knocks some common sense into you, then it’s all for the best, I say.”

Fervently, he tried again. “I don’t wish to accidentally harm you,” Equius said, hands held up in peace. Jane frowned.

“You shalln’t dissuade me with fear, Lord Zahhak! I intend to keep my word!”

Jane felt a hand on her shoulder, and it drew her away from Equius, its hold warm and firm. “Alright, okay, we get it,” Dirk said – he was surprisingly close, and when Jane turned to look she found it was him who had pulled her away. “You’re eager to throw down. How about you do it tomorrow night? We’ll be back on the road by then, and we won’t have an entire town gawking at how nucking futs we are.” He turned to the others. “We’ll pick this up another time, okay? Closer to the Scratchlands, or when you all learn to not be fuckwits, whichever comes first, and I’m betting on the former.” He waved his free hand in dismissal, and with an insistent grip on Jane, he steered her out of the room.

He did not let go even when the doors closed behind them, and Jane wrenched out of his grasp. “What did you interfere for?” She asked, her irritation open and plain. “Your Majesty, I can handle myself!”

“I can tell,” He quipped, “You handled yourself so well that you did an acrobatic pirouette right the fuck off the handle.” He brought his free hand up again and ran it through his hair. “Man, I feel sorry for anybody who tries to get between you and your theoretical future children. Admit it, you would’ve tried to kick his ass right then and there. Wouldn’t have ended well, though.”

“And just why is that?”

“He said he didn’t want to hurt you.” His head moved slightly, the only indication that he had looked to the closed door. “Don’t know if this is something that’s been made apparent to you, Jane, but Equius Zahhak has a bit of a problem with strength. He can break things without any effort, and often on accident. Fighting him means accepting that you could very well get the shit kicked out of you at any moment. There’s no way Rose will let you go through with it, either.”

Jane sighed, and folded her arms across her chest. “That only sounds marginally different than a duel with anyone else,” She said, “And I’ll repeat it if necessary! I _shalln’t_ be dissuaded! Not even if it’s an order!”

Dirk mimicked her stance. “Shalln’t, huh?”

Jane nodded. “Yes, that’s right. I shalln’t.”

There was a beat of silence, and then Dirk bowed his head and brought a fist to his mouth. He let out a snort. “Alright. Damn if that’s not the stupidest word I’ve ever heard, but alright.” His arms unfolded, and he headed for the building’s exit. “Come on, then. Guess it’s time you moved up from Smuppets.”

With that, Jane followed Dirk to the caravan, wary and curious of his motives, and when they arrived he took to the ladder to his loft and came down with two wooden objects. One was long and curved made of dark wood, and the other was smaller, with a distinctly round and flat end, made of a lighter colored wood that Jane had seen used in the nightly bonfires. This Dirk handed to Jane.

“Figured you should be training with an actual weapon some point along the line,” He said, “Didn’t think it’d be now, or you’d have a mini trident instead of a sad excuse for a spoon. You mind?”

She shook her head. “Not at all…did you make this? When?”

Dirk shrugged. “At night. You know, when everybody’s sleeping. I don’t really…well, it’s not that I don’t sleep, I just don’t get a lot of it. Got too much on my mind. I usually spend my time doing things with my hands.”

Jane felt her jaw drop, and her mouth moved a few times before she managed to say anything. “What – what sort of things? Do you have on your mind, I mean.”

“Eh, you know. Plans for conquest, figuring out how far we’ll travel in a day, wondering how to keep everyone in line and in check.” He hefted the long stick in his hands, adjusted his grip, brought it down through the air in an experimental swing. “I’m a Prince, Jane. Giving a shit about the future and what happens to my subjects is kind of my thing.”

She stared at him for a time, fingering the end of her own weapon. It was surprisingly heavy, but not too much, about the same as her trident. Why, she wondered, why, when given the choice, would Dirk choose to help her? Why would he admit to manipulation and leave his reasoning a mystery if caring for others was his primary duty? She wanted to ask now more than ever, to let her curiosity trump whatever it was that kept her silent before – but the spoon in her hands reminded her of what lay immediately before her. She had resigned herself to a spotlight tomorrow night, and if she was not up to snuff, who knows what could happen? Dirk must have known that, too, or he wouldn’t have bothered to try to help, and at the very least, she should take it.

With a little sigh, she gripped the spoon tighter. “When this duel is over,” She said, “There are some things I would like to ask you, Dirk. Things about yourself, if you’d be willing to share them.” At that, Dirk stilled. “There are some things you’ve been particularly cagey with, and I can’t help but find them disquieting. I don’t expect you to tell me everything, but-”

“But you’ll ask regardless.” He rested the stick on his shoulder. “You’ll dog me about whatever it is you want to know and you won’t take no for an answer. I’ll happily give you that opportunity, Jane, but I want something in return.”

Jane felt her insides grow cold. He was goading her again, he loved to do that, and it made her want to conquer whatever he had in mind just to make him stop. “You want me to win my duel,” She said, “That’s all I have to offer you, isn’t it?”

She saw his grip on the stick tighten, his knuckles turn white. “You catch on quick.”

~*~

Over the course of the rest of the day and well into the night, Jane learned many things. She learned that Dirk’s stick was not called a stick, it was called a bokken, and that he knew better than to use it when sparring, for it was just as dangerous as any other sword if handled correctly. She saw again how animated he became when he spoke of the things he loved, even if they were gruesome topics like how hard a bokken had to be swung to crack a skull or hack off a troll’s horn. She learned that he had impeccable control, the wood stopping just a hair’s breadth away whenever she had been too slow to duck or dodge, as if he were pulling punches. Knowing that did not make the swings any less fearsome, and in time Jane dodged more near-hits than was subjected to them, the whistling of the air her only indication of her success – in this way, she learned how alert she had to be. The Smuppets before had always caught her by surprise, and the duels had too, but going though the steps kept her on her toes, ever wary, ever waiting.

On the morning of the third day, it was time to say goodbye to Veil, and the troops poured from their temporary homes and back into formation, their grump and melancholy particularly catching. The sky was overcast, and a chill rode in on the wind, much as it had for most of the journey, and it made one wonder if spring would ever come at all. The townspeople seemed unaffected by the weather’s melancholy, and they came in droves to wish them a fond farewell and a swift victory. This must have been what the march through the capital had been like, Jane mused – full of waving people and bright faces. She could not bring herself to match such emotion, not with Prospit’s suffering as a reality firm in her mind.

So Jane spent the day out on the march, worrying herself sick over every step. There was a terrible dread for her people that hung over her head, and her lack of opportunities to help them choked her breath. Then there was Jake, of course, once again hidden in the throng of soldiers and still as much a concern as ever. Though it was coming to her sooner than the others and it had worked her into a passion, her duel with Equius was the last thing on her mind, and she was shocked when the time came to stop the caravans and set up camp in preparation.

Dave’s opening commentary was not even bothered with, and once the fire and the night’s dinner had been set in place, the Lord had his company prepare their field with torches. Word must have spread through the troops, for many of them clamored to watch between the caravans, most clad in royal blue uniforms. They looked at Jane with open pity.

Equius was waiting in the prepared area, weapon in hand. It was a monster of a thing, half blade and half handle that looked like it could cleave a man in two. It made the trident at Jane’s side feel remarkably useless. When she reached him and stood against his back as dictated, he sighed.

“I have thought over your actions,” He said, “And they still…puzzle me. This duel is foolish. You should call it off.”

“Why would I call it off if you didn’t understand why I asked for it in the first place?” Jane asked. “You were being rude!”

“I was merely following tradition. I see no reason to be penalized for that, and I see no reason to hurt you because of it.” She could feel Equius tense. “I do not like having a quarrel with you. You must call it off.”

Jane frowned deeply. “I _shalln’t_.”

The Lord stomped his feet on the sidelines. “Jane Human!” He said, “Your duels. Are unusually gabby! Cease and desist at once! I am eager to get to. ‘The good part’!” With a huff, Jane began her paces. Ten steps, turn on the heel, bow…and trident drawn.

For how insistent Equius was that he did not want to duel, he charged quickly, sword at the ready. Jane dodged the first attempt at a slash, amazed at how quickly the blade dropped through the air. It must have been incredibly heavy, and yet it was wielded as if it were a feather, gliding through the air in graceful and deadly arcs. Once or twice, she brought her trident up to block an attack that could not be avoided, and she trembled from the force she had to exert just to keep the weapons in place. There had to be some restraint on his part, she thought-

There was a flash of metal on high, and she brought her trident up to meet it, free hand flat on the back of the tines as if she expected to catch the opposing blade on the stem. But her thoughts led to misjudgement, and she felt a deep, slicing pain. Jane screamed, and she stumbled back, one hand weak around her trident and the other bleeding freely down her palm.

“ _Now_ will you concede?” Equius asked, “That was a warning of what could come!” His face was slick with sweat, and his hands shook, but Jane barely heard him, could barely see him; the pain blurred her vision and buzzed in her ears, and all she knew was that she could not let go of her weapon, she refused to lose!

Jane lurched forward, Equius drew back. The monster sword was raised, but the golden tines of her trident met a different target – the hand that held it high.

It was the blue that streamed down that snapped Jane to her senses, and the pain in her injured hand heightened. Equius did not so much as grunt when the trident struck him, but he had dropped his weapon in shock, and the longer the tines dug into him, the shorter and more ragged his breathing became. Jane yelped, and yanked the trident back, wincing as blue blood dripped out onto the grass.

“Oh, God!” Jane rushed forward, abandoning her weapon and taking Equius’s injured hand in her own, pressing the cut together. It was still so strange, troll’s blood. Still so foreign. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry-”

“Lady Jane…” Equius said. He was shaking. “You are not helping…and you, too, are hurt-”

“I didn’t mean to cut you, I just-”

“We should seek medical attention-”

“I was so mad, I wasn’t thinking – ugh, what IS that??” There was an itching, tingling sensation working its way along Jane’s cut like a crawling fire, and she looked down, ready to grimace at what would prove to be a debilitating wound. What Jane saw made her jaw drop, and her frustration and worry melted away into awe. There was a curling, glowing, cyan fire working its way across her cut, spreading by way of the blood that dripped down her hand and crossing to Equius’s when her blood mixed with his. The fire reached his injury, and he winced as the cyan traveled along it, mending the skin in its wake. When the glow subsided, all that was left of the injuries were drying blood and pale scars.

Jane could not hide the amazement on her face. Where had the cyan fire come from, how had it healed her? She flexed the hand and found it good as new, without an ache or pinch. Equius did the same, sweat beading at his temples.

“Marvelous!” He said to himself, “Simply marvelous…” His gaze turned to Jane, and immediately, he bowed his head. “You did not…have to heal me. And yet you did. Me! Your opponent!”

“You’re saying that _I_ did that?” Jane shook her head. “But there’s no way! That’s impossible!”

But Equius did not listen. He sunk to one knee, his head still bowed. “Such a noble gesture,” He continued, “Even though I have drawn your blood, and you in turn drew mine.” Behind her, Jane heard the nobles and royals draw close, silenced by their curiosity. “I still cannot fathom your reasoning, Lady Jane, but I am…moved…by your kindness.”

That was all well and good, but Jane sighed nonetheless. “It’s moot if you don’t understand,” She said, and she wondered how Derse could even function with such an eclectic group of eccentrics in power.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter took three weeks to write. Three weeks! Granted, part of that time was spent in a very frustrating depressive dip, and I ended up deleting a large chunk of what I'd written the first time, but I've finished it, and it's a long time coming. Thanks so much for being patient, guys!


	11. Bone

True to his word, Dirk took Jane aside after the duel, and told her that she could ask him whatever she wished that night. After supper had been eaten and the fire smoldered, after Rose and Kanaya had retired and Dave had disappeared, these two sat on one of the couches in the caravan, on opposing sides, all straight backs and stillness. Dirk was the first to speak.

“Didn’t think you’d start shooting off the Lifey Thing so soon.”

“The what?”

“That fire.” Dirk gestured to her healed hand. “Feferi’s is her blood’s color, but it functions the same. She can use it at will, but yours just kicked in when you needed it. You should be proud.” Jane idly traced her scar with her fingertips as he continued. “You haven’t even been studying life for two weeks – or all that hard – and you’re reaping the benefits already.”

“Is that what it was?” Jane asked. “The Art of Life?” Yet asking made her feel foolish. Life could very well be more than just powering all of existence, after all. Why would healing a wound – preserving life, as it were – be such a stretch? Dirk did not provide the answer for her, and she sighed. “I still don’t know how it could have happened all by itself. It’s not like I feel any different than before – ah!” She brightened. “But then again, if I remember correctly, you did say that these things sneak up on us.”

Dirk nodded and shrugged, noncommittal and nonchalant. “And if I remember correctly, you had questions for me? You earned ‘em, Jane, and I am a man of my word.” He paused for a moment, gathering his thoughts. “I am an open book on your lap. Peruse me if you will, but I ask you to be careful with the pages. They’ve been known to give the most sick-nasty of paper cuts.” He did not struggle to keep his face straight even as Jane began to giggle. “Or worse, your fingers might slip and you could tear a page right out of me. I suggest you don’t do that, either. Precious information could be lost to the ages that way. Our ancestors’ lives might depend on knowing exactly how I spent the better part of my sixth birthday, but because of your callous indifference, the tale is lost to the ages.” His voice rose slightly as he continued, and that only served to make Jane laugh harder. “Now no one will know just how much of my own birthday cake I ate just so I could puke in the castle courtyard to get out of entertaining guests. No one will know that it was the whole goddamn cake, Jane. How would you feel about that?”

“Oh – oh, please! Hoo hoo, Dirk, stop!” Her eyes began to tear from the force of her laughter, and she curled forward, wrapping her arms around her stomach.

Dirk shook his head. “You gotta promise you’ll be careful, Jane. No mucking around with sensitive information, if that’s what you’re asking for. Take it slow.” He paused again, and Jane held up a hand before he started.

“Please,” She said, “Don’t _do_ that again! I don’t – hoo, I don’t think I can take another ramble!” Dirk leaned back into the couch as Jane’s laughter subsided. “Was – was that your plan all along? To distract me with a bout of giggles?”

“You mean it didn’t work?” He asked. “Damn. And here I thought I could get away with it.”

“Not quite, I’m afraid.” Jane would have loved to continue this discourse; he’d have to do better than that, she wanted to say, but there was far too much she wished to address. She cleared her throat and breathed deeply to smother any giggles that might remain, and folded her hands in her lap. “Might I begin, now? Or have you some other diversion up your sleeve?”

“I have all the diversions up my sleeve,” Said Dirk. His posture shifted somehow, and Jane could not say how or why, but he came off as rigid. Nervous. “But to tell you about them is a diversion in itself.”

Jane fidgeted in her seat, and could not bring herself to look at Dirk. “I’ve only got one thing that’s bothering me especially,” She said, “The rest are all myriad curiosities, and can wait if you don’t want to answer them. But this I absolutely have to know.” She took one more deep breath. “Just how much of what you do is this manipulation of yours, and why do you do it?”

Dirk hummed, rolled his neck and let it crack. “I do it if I can get something I want out of it,” He said, “Items, answers, a favor in the future. Don’t tell me you wouldn’t collect all the resources you could if you headed an entire country. I don’t get nearly as much information about how things are run as I’d like to, mostly because Caliborn likes to keep it from me so he can dole it out later like a pedophile with drugged candy.” She could feel his gaze turn harsh behind his spectacles. “I’ve got to keep up no matter what it takes. Derse is my birthright, and I’ve got to own up to it. If that means pulling strings, there’s no question, I pull strings.”

“So does that make everything you do a manipulation?” Jane asked. There was a prickly feeling rising in her throat. “Your banter with Dave and Rose? What – what you did for me?” To say it out loud made the prickle turn into a sharp pain. “I want the truth, Your Majesty. I want to know what you could possibly gain from someone like me.”

She did not receive an answer right away. Dirk stiffened further, his lips pressed into a thin line, and the longer his silence, the more agitated Jane became. Finally, there was a shift, and Dirk moved closer to her on the couch. He placed a tentative hand over hers, and though her own feelings were a maelstrom, Jane could recognize this as an attempt to comfort. It was far too rigid, but it was an attempt.

“Hear me out on this one,” He said. “Because it’s not something I tell people. Alright?” He did not wait for her to answer. “Like I said before, Derse is my birthright. I’ve got to own up to it. I can’t just go frolic in a field or some shit whenever I want. I’ve got responsibilities, and I’m always gonna have them. It’s…” He paused, struggling to find the word. “It’s really fucking hard. I don’t know how else to say it. And sometimes, I need a break, you know? That was what led to me meeting you that night in the rain.” His grip tightened. “It was pretty obvious you’d been through something major. But you were so _stubborn_. Stubborn about what you’d come from, and where you’d go next, though on that front it was clear that you were shit out of luck. I guess part of me was jealous that I’d never been that stubborn myself.” He paused, tilted his head a bit. “So I had to grope for strings a bit. Present you with the illusion of control. Hand you the handle, hold fast the blade kind of thing. All I expected out of it was for one of us to end up in a better place.” He shrugged, and his body relaxed immediately. “The other times, I’ve just been pushing your boundaries a bit. Now that I do to everyone. I do it because I want everyone to be their absolute fucking best when it comes to their jobs. You’ve seen these chuckleheads at work – if I don’t whip them into shape, nobody will.”

There was a funny lump in Jane’s throat that she couldn’t swallow down. “And – the rest of the time?”

“Honest talking. Cross my heart and hope to die.” He gave her a wry smile.

If Jane had not seen how Dirk’s demeanor had shifted while he spoke, she might not have believed him. But the stillness had come off as a sort of weakness to Jane, the rigid movement indicative of guilt and thought. He had looked over his actions and presented them to her honestly, and it had made him uncomfortable enough to make his usual mask slip. It could be another ruse, Jane knew, an extension of that metaphorical handle of his, and by grasping it she could fall into something bigger than herself. But she couldn’t think like that forever. It wasn’t healthy, and if Jane was to have any allies not bound by duty, she needed to take a risk.

Dirk was still holding her hand. Slowly, she turned her palm, and took his into her own. When he stilled again, she gave it a squeeze.

“I’m glad to hear that,” She said, “Because I’d like to think of us as friends, of a sort, unless you would prefer not to.”

There was a beat of silence, and Dirk squeezed her hand back. “Oh God,” He said, “I’d love that.”

“You would?”

“Yeah. I’m not fooling with you, Jane, that sounds fucking awesome.” His smile was small, but his expression was bright. “Let’s make it official. Get some matching outfits. Dave and I have those purple getups, you could probably borrow his for the announcement.”

Jane chuckled. “Let’s not get too carried away! And please don’t start this again, I’ll laugh myself to death before the night is out!”

Dirk scoffed, and he took back his hand. Jane’s still tingled with his warmth. “I’ll try to reign myself in for your sake,” He said, and he leaned back into the couch, getting comfortable in the closer spot. “Now how about you hit me with some of those myriad curiosities of yours? I’m kind of wondering what they could be, now.”

“Well, alright, if you’re sure,” Jane said, “They’re really not much of a concern, I assure you.”

“Curiosity isn’t something to doubt,” Dirk said, “If you want to know something, you should pursue it. Not that you seem to need reminding.”

Nor did he, Jane thought.

“I was just wondering, is all, about that cousin of yours with the…jarred cats, was it? Could you tell me about her? Who she was, where she went?”

Dirk rolled his shoulders. “There’s not too much to tell, really. I had a cousin. I loved her to pieces, but she started studying her Art young. She looked into the Void and found things that she loved more than us, and one day, it swallowed her up and took her to God knows where. I haven’t seen her since.” He sighed, and pinched the bridge of his nose, his spectacles pushed up just enough for Jane to make out the beginnings of circles under his eyes. “The last time I did see her…I think I was around eight, and Caliborn was on a trip.” The number and the mention of the Lord made Jane snap to attention. “She was crying. She never cried before, and she’d been gone into the Void a lot lately. She looks at me…” He paused, and took a long breath. “She looks at me and says, ‘Dirky Doo’ – she had nicknames for everybody, by the way, _the_ most embarrassing things in the world – ‘Dirky Doo, come and see my friends. Come and see them before he takes them away’.”

Jane’s brows furrowed. The nickname was cute, and it reminded her a little of her dear friend Roxy and her croons of “Janeeeey” throughout the corridors of Crocker Hall, but the context was so very sad. “Did you go to see her friends?” She asked.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Dirk said. “No, I didn’t go into the Void. Nobody knows what kind of crazy shit lurks in there. Horrorterrors of the nth degree, long dead ancestors – it could be anything. I was eight and she was hysterical, I wasn’t going to take my chances.”

“And you haven’t seen her since.” It struck a sore spot in her heart. She hadn’t seen Roxy in ages, either. “Do you regret it at all? Not going, I mean.”

After a moment, Dirk gave a slight nod. “On the bad days,” He said, “When I want to snap something in half. I kind of wish I’d taken the chance, just to see what made her so thrilled to throw herself into the abyss all those times, and to finally give herself to it.” He shrugged jerkily. “I’ll never know if it could’ve been worth it, though. At least when we lost Nepeta, we knew where she was going, but for all I know, my cousin’s dead body is floating in the Void.”

“That’s another thing,” Jane said quickly, glad for the opportunity to divert the conversation. Dirk had begun to go rigid again. “Whatever happened to Miss Nepeta? You never mentioned how she came to leave Derse. She didn’t…well, she didn’t pass away, did she?”

“That’d be almost as bad as the Void,” Dirk said, and he shook his head. “Not that I know, thank God. Nepeta liked to leave the capital and travel a lot. She could be pretty slippery when she wanted to be. Caliborn always sent out troops to go and retrieve her, though, and he’d give Equius shit for it later. They were moirails, and I think you said you don’t know what quadrants are, right?” Jane nodded. “It’s the troll version of romance. Old as balls, it’s been hardwired into them since long before they came in contact with humans. There’s four factions of it, and a moirail is like your best friend soulmate that protects you, keeps you from blowing your stack. She was his responsibility, and he was hers. But I’m digressing.” His body relaxed, and he became more animated the more he spoke. “We were all about thirteen years old. Nepeta had gone off again, and this time Caliborn was absolutely done, like one hundred percent done. He took Equius and a whole legion of troops out to go and retrieve her, and the next thing I know, word comes in that the Prospitian Court and some of their army were out on an expedition on their border of the Scratchlands. I didn’t hear anything else about it until Caliborn and Equius came back, sans Nepeta. It was the stupidest fucking thing, Jane. _The_ stupidest.”

“What was?”

“The Battle of Crumpled Hat.”

Jane’s jaw dropped. “ _No!_ ”

“So you’ve heard of it?”

“Kanaya said that’s what brought her to Derse! Nepeta was involved in it?”

“Involved?” Dirk asked incredulously, “Nepeta _caused_ the whole thing. She got too close to the Prospitians and fucked up some colonel’s fancy hat. The Court and troops hunted her until they ran into Caliborn and Equius, and it just blew up. It was apparently one hell of a horror show. And to top it all off-” He jerked his head to the ladies’ loft and lowered his voice. Jane had to lean in to hear him. “When they finally got close enough to a greenblooded troll, they nabbed the first one they could and ran off. They didn’t even bother to see if the greenblood that Prospit folded into their ranks was their own member of the Court or not. It’s not Kanaya’s fault she’s here, and Rose would happily let her go free if we did an exchange, no matter how much they’ve been necking and pretending nobody notices. It’s Caliborn’s.”

Jane’s heart ached for Kanaya. She hadn’t thought the Battle that had changed her friend’s life had been so tumultuous. “How so?”

There was a hardness to Dirk’s face, and he spoke as if biting back something terrible and angry. “He refuses to give her back,” He said, “And he is absolutely against taking Nepeta again. I remember how he put, too, when he came back. He called all of us into a room and turned her into a traitor. He shamed Equius for not controlling her, he…ugh.” Dirk ran a hand through his hair again. “She made a mistake. One fucking mistake, and he throws her under the bus with his own mistake.”

Was this what being friends with the Prince of Derse meant? To see him angry for once, uncomfortable, unhappy? This too made Jane’s heart hurt, and that funny pity from the first day in Veil rose up within her again. She swallowed. “You’re right to be angry,” She managed to say, “What he did was wrong. He’s always been wrong.”

“You don’t know the half of it,” Dirk said.

Jane balked. “Excuse me? I think I would know him very well!”

“You never had to live with him breathing down your neck,” He spat. As quickly as pity for the Prince appeared, it gave way to a spike of anger, and Jane felt her gaze harden into a glare. She wanted to tell Dirk all that happened during her servitude, about soothing burns from hot food thrown in her face for two years until she learned how to use the oven and stove; about the long days of cleaning and perfecting only to be insulted and degraded; about how her only bright light during those days had been changed, and she knew no way to turn him back to normal. But that would not be right. She did not want to make a big to-do, and those days were behind her, though the Lord still lingered. The present was more important. Saving Jake and surviving the whims of nobility, that was what she had to do. Still, it would not do to leave her outburst unexplained.

“He was my Lord, Dirk,” Jane said quietly. Her head had bowed, and she felt hot tears at the corners of her eyes. “He was the one I ran away from, the night we met.”

The caravan was silent, the night was silent. She felt Dirk’s arm hover over her shoulders before it finally came down, his hand gentle where the tear in her shawl had once been. His face, his body, Jane could not read them this time, not even if she looked at him to make the effort.

“…Maybe we should put this on hold for now,” Dirk said. Jane nodded once. It was so hard for her not to cry, though she could not help but hiccup as she drew breath.

“Okay.”

Slowly, Dirk led Jane from the couch and to the lofts. When she reached up to grasp the ladder, his arm shifted, and his hand rested between her shoulder blades. This was…probably much more contact than was appropriate between a Prince and a Lady in Waiting. For some reason, it made it that much harder for Jane to reign her breathing in.

“If you want to know anything else,” Dirk whispered, “You can ask me tomorrow. Or the next day. Any day is fine.” He paused, licked his lips. “And if you’re okay with it, maybe you could field some of my own ‘myriad curiosities’.” He patted her once before he withdrew his hand completely. “Get some sleep, Lady Jane. Tomorrow’s another busy day.”

Of course it was, Jane thought, for it would be another day closer to war. She turned and looked at Dirk. “Good night, Your Majesty.”

~*~

Sleep came easily to Jane that night, despite the pain that had settled in her heart, and when she awoke it was gone and leagues easier to breathe. It was another day, after all, another set of steps closer to Prospit.

Breakfast passed peacefully, but as Rose readied herself and Kanaya to leave the caravan and rally her troops, Dirk asked her to wait.

“Can I borrow Jane today?” He asked, blunt and blithe. Rose’s eyebrows shot up, and she ignored Jane’s shocked expression.

“You’re asking permission? Dear cousin, you are the law of the land. You need not ask if you want something. Are you feeling well?”

Dirk was impassive, but Jane thought she saw something smug in him. “Feeling fine, Rose. And thanks.”

“The heck do you need to borrow a girl for, Bro?” Dave asked. He had perched on the arm of a couch, his head towering over all those who remained seated. “Don’t tell me your puppet debauchery is her new favorite pastime. You’ve finally sucked someone into your sick, felt pleasures, huh?”

“ _Dave!_ ” Jane exclaimed.

“Now that is no way to speak about a lady, in waiting or otherwise,” Said Dirk. “And she’s moved up in the world. We’re fighting with wood, not ass.”

“That is an awful innuendo and you should be ashamed of yourself,” Said Dave.

“It’s only an innuendo if you make it one, dude. I think you’re the one in need of a cone of shame.”

“Boys, _please_ ,” Jane said, and they turned to look at her. “You are both utterly hilarious, but that is quite enough for the morning.” She paused. Had she just given two princes an order? Oh, she had gotten far too comfortable with them. “Don’t you agree?” She added hastily.

“I don’t,” Dave said, but Dirk rose from his seat.

“Neither do I, but I do want to get as much training in for her as possible. We can pick this up tonight, little man, okay? I promise.” Dave made a face, and let out a long-suffering sigh.

“You’d _better_ ,” He said, and he made a show of leaving his perch. Rose came forward and guided him to the door, and Kanaya followed, her hand politely covering an amused smile.

When they left, Dirk leaned out the caravan door. “If anyone needs me,” He called out, “Tell them not to come up here unless it’s extremely fucking pertinent, alright? Like there’s gotta be someone half dead on the ground before they even consider it.”

And that was how it began. For a day, and another, and yet another, there was no marching for Jane, none for Dirk, only the clash of wood in cramped quarters. Every round was exhausting, every push of bokken against spoon a struggle. They emerged only when the caravans stopped, as their presence would be missed around the fire. There were a few lingering stares, particularly on Jane, for the sparring made her flushed and disheveled, but she paid them no mind. Her muscles ached, and her mind buzzed as it replayed sidesteps and movements. Rose had been about precision and process in her training, but Dirk’s was spontaneous and loose. It felt more real to her, more like a real duel felt, even though Dirk was very careful not to land a single blow on her, and she could not manage to hit him even if she wanted to. His blocks were quicker, his dodging nigh instantaneous. She felt sorry for anyone he decided to duel.

They went undisturbed for three days of travel, but on the fourth in the middle of the afternoon, where swings became clumsier and steps less sure, there was a sudden rapping at the caravan door. Jane jumped, and Dirk faltered, and before they knew it, both of them had hit each other, Jane’s spoon an ineffectual poke to Dirk’s middle and his bokken a sharp smack to her shoulder. Something cracked.

“ _Shit_ ,” Dirk said, but Jane could not hear him, nor the sound of the bokken being dropped. All she knew in that moment was pain sparking along her collar bone, and the sudden impact of her knees hitting the floor as she cried out.

She could barely breathe when her senses began to come back to her, and she felt a pair of shockingly cold hands on her uninjured shoulder, a warm one being pressed to her injury and oh that hurt, that hurt-

“That hurts!!” She cried, and the warm hand pulled back. There was a hiss behind her.

“Keep it still or it ain’t gonna heal right!” Said a voice, and the hand returned, pressing harder this time. Her nerves flared, and Jane screamed, hot tears streaming down her face. There was a warmth building around the injury, and she could just register a cyan flicker at the edges of her vision.

“Fuck…I’m sorry, Jane, I’m so sorry,” She heard Dirk say, and as the glow grew stronger, the pain began to subside. She could make him out in front of her, his hand pressed against her collar bone and his jaw set. His head moved slightly, and he spoke again, but not to her. “I swear, Ampora, if there’s not a body that I need to address out there, you better get down on your knees and start praying right now.” So that’s who the cold hands belonged to, Jane thought. Lord Ampora snorted.

“Like it’s my fault you’re w-wieldin’ shit you know-w you ain’t supposed to use on people! You w-were gonna hurt her at some point, I mean, _cod-damn_ , you know-w better, Dir!”

By now, the pain had faded and so had the cyan fire, though Dirk’s hand lingered; his grip tightened, and Jane was grateful that her pendant was nowhere near his touch for him to find it. “I’m not that careless,” He said, “Don’t assume I am. You know better, Ampora.”

The two glared at each other. Jane coughed and squirmed.

“I’m okay now,” She said, “You can let me up.” Both of them jerked in surprise, their hands leaving her, and Jane slipped from between them. Her own hand went to where the collar bone had broken, fingering the area. It had indeed mended, and she was glad she did not have to find out the severity of the crack.

Lord Ampora fixed her with a stare. “That’s somethin’ you should remember,” He said, “If you break a bone, you gotta hold it in place before you start healin’ yourself. Otherw-wise it grow-ws back all w-weird and you hawe to break it again.”

“Really?” Jane said, “How do you know that?”

“Comes w-with the territory,” He said, and he folded his arms and grinned. Jane could see Lord Ampora’s sharp fangs. They reminded her of a wolf’s. “Fef know-ws lots about the Lifey Thing, and since _I’m_ her moirail, I know-w all the stuff she know-ws.”

“You know it in theory, not in practice,” Dirk said. Lord Ampora opened his mouth to protest, but the Prince continued. “Look, I’ll give you credit for the bone setting thing, that’s obviously not something that can be done on your own when you’re in that much pain. But to claim that you know as much as Peixes does about her own Art? I call shenanigans.”

“Does Lady Peixes know a lot about Life?” Jane asked. She pressed her collar bone a little harder. It might be useful, she thought, to know something more than the things in her little book, and perhaps this Lady would be willing to teach her a thing or two. Lord Ampora nodded, his grin becoming quite smug.

“She’s the highest authority on Life this side a the Scratchlands – oh, w-while I’m rememberin’,” He said, and he reached into his waistcoat and pulled out a bit of paper with a flourish. There were rings on his fingers, Jane noticed, gleaming silver rings sporting baubles of charoite. “A- _hem_ ,” He began, and he read from the page, careful to enunciate clearly. “To Lady Jane w-watewer your surname is, you are cordially inwited to the mobile hiwe of Lady Feferi Peixies tomorrow-w morning for a cordial discussion and herbal imbibements.”

Beside her, Dirk let out a long sigh, and he brought a hand to his forehead. “Ampora,” He said slowly, “You overlooked orders given by me, through my family – orders that I wouldn’t have given unless I was dead serious about them – to play messenger boy and invite someone I have been quite publically grooming for success…to a _tea party_. You are so goddamn pale whipped.”

Grooming for success? Is that what he called it? Jane’s brow furrowed in confusion, while Lord Ampora’s eyebrows shot up.

“Oh, is _that_ w-what you’we been doing,” He said, “W-wow-w, I did not peg that right at all.”

What did he mean? Jane wanted to ask, but Dirk beat her to the punch. “Whatever holes you’ve put your pegs in, keep them to yourself,” He said, “I have a feeling that I really do not want to know.”

Lord Ampora shrugged. “Suit yourself, Dir,” He said, and then he looked to Jane. “W-well? Can w-we expect you?”

Jane brought a hand to her chin and pondered. On one hand, she did not know Lady Feferi or Lord Ampora particularly well, and if she had learned anything from her experience with the nobles of Derse, it was that they all seemed to have some sort of issue or motive behind their actions, whether transparent or obtuse, and such things had an awfully strange tendency to lead towards a duel. On the other, it would be very rude of her to refuse, and that could land her in more trouble. Besides, it would not be right of her to assume ill intent of two trolls she barely knew, so she nodded. “It would be my pleasure,” She said at last. Lord Ampora’s grin widened.

“W-Wonderful,” He said, and he flicked two fingers from his forehead in a salute. He then turned to Dirk and bowed his head. “’Course, you’re alw-ways w-welcome Dir, don’t ewer forget that-”

“Wipe the brown off your nose, Ampora,” Dirk said, “You’re dismissed.” With another quick bow, Lord Ampora left, grinning all the while, and when the caravan door closed behind him, Dirk sighed again. “I think I have a headache.” He sniffed and looked to Jane. “Smart move. Taking the invite I mean. Ampora’s got one wicked streak of tenacity. He would have stuck around until you agreed, kind of like barnacles on a shipwreck, and fuck knows nobody needs that.”

“Well, I didn’t accept because of that. I didn’t even know that was a thing he did.”

“Oh, it’s a thing alright. You’ll see.” He turned, then, and plucked his forgotten bokken from the ground. Jane’s eyes fell on his back. “…I just had the wildest idea. Hear me out for a second.” He looked over his shoulder to her. “How about I pull out the Smuppets for ironic nostalgic purposes? We’ve done enough with wood today.”

Jane’s brow furrowed, but she nodded regardless. “You’re the one training me, Dirk. Whatever you decide is fine.”

It is not until Jane had retired for the night, Kanaya curled up against her back, that she realized that he may have proposed the Smuppets because he did not want to risk injuring her again.

It is not until much, much later that Jane realized this to be the point where the whispers in her ears and the intense, heart-shaking feelings made their departure, only to make way for something new, and completely her own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter should have some seatrolls for you guys, but this one is more of a shipping bone than anything. Dirk's not really had a friend that wasn't family or nobility, you see. He's very eager to have a friend that stays intact.


	12. Love

As the sun began to make its morning ascent and before the march resumed for the day, Jane went to Lady Peixes’ caravan. She had to pass the Lord’s first, its windows blocked by dark curtains and an air of broiling terror about it. It was sort of silly to be afraid of it, Jane thought, for it was large and colored a garish green, but it was the one who lived inside of it that made it frightening. She did not notice a curtain parting as she passed, her hands clenched and her gaze set on where she was expected.

The Peixes caravan was a cheery tyrian affair, and there was a small awning over the door, sporting strings of seashells that clicked and clattered in the breeze. Jane had barely knocked when the door was flung open, and a beaming Lady Peixes greeted her with an enthusiastic handshake. She was always the best dressed of the ladies of Derse (although, if Kanaya could have counted as one of them, they would have been fierce contenders for the title); while not strapped into the bustles of a courtly affair, she still wore sweeping dresses and silks ornamented with silver embroidery and bits of stilbite. All of the nobles of Derse seemed to sport some stone, Jane had noticed, and she had a brief moment to wonder if it meant anything.

“ _There_ you are,” Lady Peixes said, and Jane was pulled inside without warning. The caravan was bright and clean and smelled of potpourri, and lace fringed the edges of every scrap of fabric, from the accents on the only couch to the curtains on the windows. What dominated the room was a round table, set with a silver tea set that had been polished until it gleamed and reflected everything around it. It looked so clean that Jane would not have been surprised if it still shone in the dark. There were two other things of note on the table – a platter of delicate tea cookies, surprisingly fresh-looking despite the length of the march, and the head of one Lord Ampora resting in his folded arms. Lady Peixes led Jane to the table and made sure she was seated before circling around and giving the other troll a swift smack to the head.

“ _Ow-w_!” He jolted up, glaring at Lady Peixes with tears in his eyes. “Fef! W-What w-was that for?”

“For falling asleep at my table _again_ , Eridan!” Her enthused grin had become a pout, and she pulled a hankerchief from her sleeve to wipe his eyes. “Sheesh! Cut out the crocodile tears, why don’t you?” He sniffled as she attacked him with the cloth, and she tutted and fussed as easily as breathing. For a troll, this would be a grotesquely pale gesture to watch, but for Jane it was just plain strange. She stared openly and leaned away, both curious to see Lord Ampora’s purple tears and a bit concerned with how easily this came to the both of them. Jane cleared her throat when she found it in her to interrupt the pair, and they looked to her with wide eyes before they pulled back from each other, Feferi with a bashful grin and Eridan with a flushed glower.

“Sorry about that! I get pulled into the undertow with him sometimes,” Said Feferi. She stuffed her hankerchief into Eridan’s hands and moved to pour some tea. “Anemone-way, here you are at last! Miss Lady Jane!” A filled cup was placed in front of Jane, and Feferi’s hand held out above it. “We haven’t gotten to talk at all, have we? I thought I should change that.”

The hand was spared a cautious glance before Jane shook it again. Feferi’s grasp was quite firm, and she did her best to match it. “You wouldn’t have a particular reason for that, would you? I must confess, I am a bit curious about that, but if it’s too forward of me-”

“Oh, don’t worry about tangling any lines!” She pumped Jane’s hand once more before she drew back, pouring tea for herself and for her grumpy companion. “You can speak as freely as you like with me! We’re in the same Life boat, after all!” Feferi leaned closer and ignored Eridan as he rolled his eyes and groaned. “It’s only natural that two people studying the same Art be frondly with each other, isn’t it?”

That did seem to be a trend, Jane thought, so she nodded. Eridan grunted.

“Friendly is a relatiwe term, Fef,” He said, and he took his teacup into his hands. “I personally think the tw-wo a you should fight for the right to practice in Derse-”

“Oh, now you know that isn’t allowed,” Feferi said. “Even Lord Clamiborn banned that on the grounds of being a plain old pain in the bass to deal with. Cookie, Miss Jane?”

“But you could hawe a duel tonight if you w-wanted-”

“Why, don’t mind if I do! Thank you, Lady Peixes, they look lovely.”

“Prowe w-who should rightfully study Life-”

“Thanks! I have a special pot that I can use as an oven, it took no time at all!”

“…Are either a you ewen listenin’ to me?” Eridan’s fins drooped as he frowned, and Feferi glanced back at him. When she saw his crestfallen expression, she sighed.

“Do you want a cookie, Eridan?” She asked, exasperated. He immediately perked up.

“W-well, if you’re offerin’.”

Feferi handed him one, and he let it rest on his coaster as he held his teacup, not yet taking a sip. “But really,” Eridan said, “All I’m sayin’ is that this Art thing should be a lot more exclusiwe! W-we’re representatiwes a Derse, w-we gotta be the best it can offer, and how-w else is that gonna be prowen?”

“I assumed it was based on nobility,” Jane said, and she took a delicate nibble of her own cookie. “And, I suppose, those being groomed for it, such as myself.”

 “Ewen that’s too early in my opinion,” Eridan said, and Jane felt herself bristle. “Though it’s obwious there’s nothin’ doin’ on that front, now-w. You get an Art and it sticks to you like glue, no changin’, no sw-witchin’.”

Feferi sighed, and she plunked herself down in a chair between her two guests. “Oh, would you stop _carping_ about it?” She asked. Her voice was playful, but there was an intonation of exhaustion underneath. “Not everybuoy has to know about how much you dislike your Hope Buddy.”

Jane’s forehead furrowed. “Hope Buddy?” She asked, “Is that like how Aradia and Dave are Time Buddies?”

Eridan groaned. “W-we ain’t ‘buddies’,” He said insistently, “Not ewen close! W-we’re just stuck studyin’ the same stuff because of cherub sea hoofbeast shit, that’s it!” He sniffed and stuck his nose in the air. “I already spent too much a my childhood panderin’ to Jake fuckin’ English, I don’t need him gapin’ like a goldfish at my studies.”

The name made Jane choke a little on the cookie. “Jake English is studying an Art?!”

“Whale, he’s sort of like you,” Feferi said. She had begun to frown a little, but she kept her voice peppy. Perhaps she did not like where the conversation was going? “He’s as good as Lord Clamiborn’s successor, though I don’t have a clue why he’d need one. Cherubs are Gods, and Gods don’t keel over or need heirs or anything! But he’s kind of like a Lord-in-waiting, he’s got a right to an Art even if his duties are a little different from yours.”

Jane’s mind was spinning. When had Jake begun studying an Art? He’d never mentioned it before. At least it now made some sense why he had been present at the breakfast in the beginning, why he had become so familiar to the nobles of Derse. It may have only been from the Lord’s graces, but he was nearly on par with them, and had been for years. Why had he never said anything to her? Why had he never reached out to them for help?

“But did it hawe to be _my_ art?” Eridan asked, snapping Jane from her thoughts, “Hope is a crapshoot as it is, and I know-w you don’t really get to choose w-what Art is yours, but w-why?” He must have been genuinely upset by this, and not just complaining about it, for when his fins drooped again so did his eyes, and Feferi looked at him with effortless and unabashed pity.

“Just _because_ ,” She said, “Let sleeping dogfish lie, Eridan, _please_.” Her hands twitched, as if they wanted to come up to hold him, but Feferi glanced at Jane and stayed them. There were apparently some things that even showy couplings did not do in front of outsiders. “This is _my_ tea party,” She continued, “And Lady Jane is my special guest! So we’re going to glub about whatever _she_ wants to glub about, okay?”

Eridan answered her with a little harrumph and crossed arms. While Jane certainly did not find this sort of behavior worth of reward or appealing by any means, there was a need to bring compromise to the situation, even she could see it. So, she cleared her throat and looked at both trolls. “I would actually love to hear all you have to say about Jake,” She said.

She was met with two very shocked stares.

“He’s very dear to me, you see,” Jane continued, “And I haven’t gotten a chance to speak with him since the march started. I’m very worried about him, but hearing about what he’s been up to with all of you would really make me happy.” She paused, taking in the expressions of her hosts. “Is something wrong?”

Feferi was the first to snap from her stupor. “Oh, no,” She said, her own fins drooping, “He’s caught another one in his net! I hope you didn’t swim upstream all this way for him, he’s reely not worth the trouble!”

“Who?” Jane asked, and her eyes narrowed. “Jake?”

“W-Who else w-would w-we mean?” Eridan asked, and he slammed his fist on the table, jolting the tea and cookies. Jane jumped. “He’s broken more hearts an’ spades than he ewen realizes!”

“He snapped Eridan’s spade right in half,” Feferi added, “I keep telling him it’ll be funny when he looks back on it, but-”

“Now hold on just a minute!” Jane did her best not to crush the last of her cookie in her hands. “Are you implying what I think you’re implying?!”

“Dir is gonna pitch a fit if he finds out,” Eridan said, ignoring Jane’s protest, “I mean, really, ewen sparring ain’t exactly somethin’ you do w-with just anyone-”

“But I thought it was different for humans!” Feferi said. Eridan shook his head.

“All I’m sayin’ is that if you spend THAT much time w-with someone, alone, then you’we got some other motiwes, and if you don’t, then w-what’s the point?”

All Jane had time for was the spike of heat that ran through her at those words; she had no time to think, no time to act or deny, for at that moment the door to the caravan creaked open, and all eyes swiveled towards it.

There is no proper way to explain how awkward it becomes when a subject of discussion appears, when its smile is too wide to be natural and its stance is too easy to be true. There is also no proper way to explain the blatant shock and shame on the face of a troll of high standing, for shame is an emotion they do not often get the privilege of feeling. What could be easily understood, however, was the burgeoning schadenfreude that hid underneath the heat and surprise that fought inside of Jane for dominance. As mixed as her emotions were, there was a definite desire to chuckle, because it was quite evident that this tea party would now be far more interesting.

Without hesitance, Dirk stepped into the caravan. “’Sup. Heard tell there was a happening party down this way. I’d ask if it was alright to crash, Lady Peixes, but your moirail extended an invite my way last night, so I guess this makes me more fashionably late than anything.” The glance Feferi shot Eridan’s way was nothing short of icy, and it made him flinch.

With little fanfare and no objection (for how could one rightfully object to a Prince?), Dirk pulled up a chair and joined the party. He even poured himself a cup of tea, though Feferi’s hands twitched when he reached for the pot. Jane watched him, not quite awestruck by his presence, but more amazed at just how unabashed and brazen he could be. He had to be hamming it up, Jane thought, and the muddled feelings were forgotten as she watched him calmly sip his tea.

Feferi was the first to make a move. She leaned closer to Dirk, worrying her bottom lip with her sharp, sharp teeth. It was a miracle she didn’t puncture the skin. “Your Majesty-”

The cup in Dirk’s hand was placed down on the table with a soft clink, cutting her off. “This tea is pretty good,” He said, “I mean, I don’t know much about tea, that’s Rose’s deal, but it seems fine to me. It is such a shame it’s gotta be tainted by such blatant fibs and fudgings of the truth.” He inclined his head to Jane. “What do you think?”

“Uh…”

Jane thought his gaze hardened behind his spectacles. “You did hear what I heard, right? That bit about motives? Sounded awfully suggestive to me. Like intimate relations suggestive.”

She had heard, of course she had! Did Dirk think her deaf? Yet to have it brought up again sent that brilliant heat through her body. Jane knew her face had twisted into some ridiculous expression, though she tried to keep her head down to hide it.

“Now-w that’s a bold face lie!” Eridan said, and he slammed his hands on the table. “I didn’t ewen bring up pails or nothin’, you can’t prowe I was insinuatin’ that!”

“I can’t?” Dirk asked, and he raised an eyebrow. This was an art to him, this uncracked mask of calm, and it was a rush to see it in action. “But I think I can. It’s not like you’re ignorant of human romance, dude, you know that our friendships don’t go into a four-square.” He paused, licked his lips. “You sure you’re not projecting a little bit? Deflecting some of the heat off of you and how attached to the hip you are to our dear Lady Peixes? Been looking a little flushed lately, if you ask me.”

Both trolls gaped at him; Eridan in particular sported violet cheeks.

“Man, I thought you learned your lesson after your drama with Captor,” Dirk continued, “Remember when the whole kingdom was buzzing about it? ‘Royal Historian and Royal Treasurer Deal In Spades’ was one of the better headlines. Dude, you are lucky you have the press wrapped around your finger or they would’ve ran the bit about Megido and falsified quadrant infidelity-”

He paused then, and took in how the seatrolls both paled, Eridan with horror and Feferi in what could only be assumed to be a freezing anger. A turn of the head was the only way Jane knew his gaze flicked to her.

“How about I let our new friend in on that little scandal, what do you say?”

Hands immediately fell on Jane’s back and tugged at Dirk’s arms, leading the both of them away from the table. Neither Feferi nor Eridan looked pleased, but they smiled and chattered and tried to be amiable as they kicked the humans out of the caravan.

“This really is a bad time to talk, isn’t it?” Feferi said in Jane’s ear. She was loud, and the cheer that had come so easily from her before was unmistakably hollow now. “I really would like to discuss Life with you, Lady Jane! Please don’t forget that!”

“Or do,” Eridan said under his breath. His comment popped Feferi’s bubble, it seemed, for she turned to him with the nastiest grimace.

“Don’t you take that tuna voice with my guests, Mr. Bossyfins!” The caravan door shut behind them with a snap, cutting off Eridan’s response, and Jane stood there and looked at the door, completely and utterly flabbergasted. While the words were muffled, she could infer enough from the rise and fall of voices.

With a groan, Jane let her head fall into her hands. “Every single day, the Derse nobles prove themselves to be crazier and crazier!” She exclaimed. “I don’t know how much of this I can take!”

“At least you didn’t have to grow up with ‘em,” Dirk said. He had not left her side, nor did being thrown out of a caravan seem to especially bother him. “Then it doesn’t matter how much you can take. You just gotta take it.”

Jane turned her head to peek over at him. “Was that bit about the infidelity really true? Or were you pulling the wool over their eyes?”

He shrugged. “I have no idea. It was like, what, a year ago since it all happened? I think that bit was a rumor going around and I just sort of latched onto it to piss ‘em off.”

Now that was something Jane had not heard before. “I never thought you were one to aggress, Dirk. You usually try to keep the peace when the others aggress each other.” She brought a curled hand to her mouth and feigned pondering – what had upset him had been sort of obvious. “Was it what you heard at the door that drove you to it?”

She expected a snappy comeback, for her question to roll off of Dirk’s back like water droplets, but instead he folded his arms and looked at her in a way that might have been cross. “And if it was?” He asked in return, “It’s not like you seemed pleased about it, either.”

“Well, I didn’t have much time to react,” Jane said. Truth be told, the comments had fallen to the wayside with Dirk’s intrusion, but it climbed into her consciousness again, clinging to her pity like a lifeline. “But I…no, it wasn’t nice to hear that sort of insinuation. Especially when it concerned Jake.” Out of the corner of her eye, Jane saw Dirk’s eyebrows shoot up from over his spectacles.

“Hey now, I was listening for a while, but not that long. What did they say about Jake?”

“They said he was a heart breaker…and a spade breaker, whatever that means.” Jane shrugged. “He damaged shovels, perhaps? I wouldn’t know. But Lord Ampora mentioned knowing Jake, and I asked about him, and they thought I…” She pressed her lips into a thin line, and gestured flippantly. “They thought I fancied him. It was so preposterous! I suppose my request for information came off a bit strangely.”

There was a slight wrinkle to Dirk’s brow, and he jerked his head in the direction of the Royal Caravan. It was a clear invitation to walk with him, and Jane took it. “If you don’t mind,” He said, “I’d like to do a little deducing about all this. Clear the air in my head, if I’ll be honest. Shit is buzzing around in there worse than a nest of cheesed off hornets.” He shoved his hands in his pockets as he continued. “You worked in Caliborn’s house for a while-”

“Eight years,” Jane said. Dirk nearly stopped in his tracks.

“…Okay, so, you’ve been with our tyrannical cherubic overlord for as long as Jake’s been running around flailing practice weapons under his name. It’s safe to say that when he wasn’t bunking with the Pages, you two slept under the same roof.” Jane nodded. “You give what is most definitely the biggest rat’s ass about him that I’ve ever seen. And-” Dirk leaned closer, and Jane could see his eyes as they glanced up and down her body, not in a threatening way, but patient and curious. “- _Damn_ , you even look a bit alike. I’m not even saying that because of the dark hair, I mean, you’ll get assholes who’ll assume that everyone with darker features looks the same, but I’m seein’ some radical dental problems, the shitty eyesight – no offense of course, but that among other things, and your repeated denial of romantic feelings, really cements it.” He really did stop this time, in front of his caravan’s door, and he leaned against it with a cool and triumphant air. “You and Jake are related.”

Jane had followed his train of words the entire time, a bit nervous at how much he had picked up on and yet amazed, so very blown away at how everything had clicked together in his mind. Still, she could not help but look down when she felt his gaze on her. “You’re right,” She admitted. “We – we’re cousins.”

“Sweet. Like Rose and me, right? That must be awesome.” His words seemed jovial, but there was a definite undercurrent to them, Jane could hear it.

“Not really,” She said. The memory of the night in the kitchen replayed in her head, Jake’s confusion as clear to her as ever, and her predicament stood on the tip of her tongue. She should wait until she was sure that she would be believed by everyone, right? That way, their willingness to help would be at its highest. But so far all she had seemed to do on this excursion was curry intrigue, not favor, and it would not help to reveal her hand now.

There must have been some indication of her troubled thoughts on her face, for Dirk’s brows furrowed, and when he spoke, that earlier undercurrent…it was still present, but it was as if he was trying to suppress it. “Is that part of what makes him so complicated for you?”

“Huh?”

“Way back at the beginning of the march, I asked if you knew him, and you told me not to because shit was complicated.”

She had, hadn’t she? Jane glanced away. “You said the same thing, if I remember correctly.”

“Yeah, well, shit really IS complicated when it comes to Jake English. That doesn’t mean I’d be averse to talking about it with a friend, though.” Jane’s gaze shot up to meet his. “And while you weren’t a friend back then, you are now, right? You don’t gotta say a goddamn word if you don’t want to. I mean that. No handles or blades involved here, just one friend shooting the shit with another.” He shifted so his shoulder was against the door instead of his back. “Would you humor me, Lady Jane?”

It would hurt, Jane knew, to talk about Jake, to hear someone whose intentions were unclear talk about Jake. But still she nodded, her curiosity winning over her trepidation. “As you wish, Your Majesty.”

~*~

Jake was something that Dirk spoke of to no one. Sure, there were the days of his childhood where he was mentioned in necessary passing as he dealt in pound cake for books on the Arts like it was cheap sopor for troll addicts, but that was not what he had in mind. This was akin to a full-blown feelings jam. He had been close to them with Jane before, surrounded by piles of Smuppets and prattling off some of his more off beat thoughts, but this would be heavier than a bit of Art talk or some off-the-cuff ramble. She was fun, Jane. Nice and considerate and fun, and she had a head on her shoulders without an inkling of Rose’s biting wit or the obfuscation Dave had grown into. Jane was up front about most everything, and what little she kept to herself was fairly easy to figure out. She didn’t lie, didn’t scheme, and that was something he knew he needed in his life. He just didn’t think he’d find it in a second person.

“I haven’t told anyone this before,” He began. They had taken over the couches in the empty living area again, because while he had grown to find Jane’s presence comfortable, he hadn’t quite reached the level needed to let her into his private chambers, even if all they consisted of here was a shared loft with his brother. “So the fact that I’m sharing this with you is a downright honor. Don’t let it get to your head-”

“Perhaps you shouldn’t begin a serious talk with the prelude to a ramble,” Jane said. He felt his words stick in his throat, and he cleared it with a cough.

“Fair enough. I’ll cut to the chase, then, keep it real plain-like.” He fidgeted where he sat. It was so hard to get comfortable on these couches, none of them had the lumps in the right places. “I have…a thing. For your cousin.”

“A _thing_?” Jane asked. Her jaw was set and one of her eyebrows was perked, so she was not surprised to hear this. “Is that what you call implying that you’ve been gazing at his derriere and trying to bribe him into your good graces in Veil?”

Dirk was very good at keeping his body language in line. He prided himself on how rarely he twitched or cracked – but behind his spectacles, his eyes widened. Had she really seen how badly he’d failed? And he hadn’t even noticed anyone else around! Who else had spotted him, who else knew? He couldn’t let on how the very idea of having the curtain drawn back on his façade shook him to his core.

“Well, shit,” He said, and he cracked a smile, true in looks and phony in practice. “You saw that? Man, I am slipping, but that’s a bit rude, spyin’ on a bro like that.”

The flush on Jane’s cheeks was instantaneous. “It’s not like I meant to!” She exclaimed. “It was an accident!” She huffed and folded her arms. “Honestly! My life does not revolve around you, Dirk, and if you think it does for even a second-”

“Relax, I don’t,” He said, and the laugh that came from him was genuine. “Though I guess that to you, I’ve been nothing but obvious about him. And to be honest? I don’t know how much of a thing it is. A thing would imply that I’ve got no fucking clue what I’m feeling or how to handle it, but I know what it is and I know what I want to do about it.”

“And what is that, exactly?” Jane asked. She leaned forward somewhat, and while her irritation was still in play, there was a sparkle of curiosity in her eyes that Dirk could not bring himself to resist. She always wanted to know more, and he was more than willing to provide it. To a degree, of course.

He gave a shrug to try and be casual, though he was sweating on the inside. There was nothing casual about something like this. “It’s love,” He said simply, “And I want to pursue it.”

Jane was quiet for a moment. Her face twitched, hinting at emotions and yet mixed too much for Dirk to discern. The curiosity was still there, but he could not figure out of the quirk of her lips was amusement, or the wrinkles in her forehead disgust, or the paleness to her cheeks an indication of anything. To be fair, his heart was pounding in his chest, like that of a rabbit ensnared in a hunter’s trap and desperate to flee. It was hard to focus on Jane when he could barely keep pace with himself.

Finally, she blinked and shook herself from her reverie. “Pursue it…you have good intentions, I assume? Pure motives?”

“Uh…”

“I’ve wondered about it for quite some time, actually. If you really did like him, that is, and to what measures you’d go to take him. I worry, you know? He’s the only family I’ve got here, and I want him to be safe!” Red bloomed on her cheeks again, and her gaze hardened. “You may be the Crown Prince of Derse, but I won’t sit quietly if you hurt him in any way.”

Dirk gave her a little salute. “Aye aye. I hear you loud and clear, m’lady, and I’d be happy to help you put those fears to rest.”

It would be a lie for him to say he hadn’t thought of forcing Jake to be his lover. It wouldn’t be hard. He had all the resources of an entire kingdom at his disposal, and he wouldn’t even need all of them. Plus, while Jake was relatively obtuse, he had the potential to be quite gullible, from what Dirk had observed. He’d been easily swayed to lead the Royal Troops, and while Dave had been resistant to his presence, he could still get Jake to do anything that needed doing. It wouldn’t be hard to pull a string here, turn a phrase there…

“Force is something I don’t want to resort to,” He said. It was as honest about his thoughts on the matter as he would get, but it was honest. “I never gave too much of a shit about people outside of my family, and even then, we’re all more brothers and sisters in arms. We’re in the trenches together. But then Jake showed up, and…”

He had been determined to keep his cheer and disposition, even with the Lord hovering over his every move. He fell ass backwards into his studies and passed through sheer pluck alone. He was polite and kind to all the troll nobles, even when they were rude to him right to his face. Dirk thought he was admirable, and perhaps in a past life he had been some sort of grand and gracious king, one that Dirk could never be, if only to keep himself safe from the Cherub Lord’s mind games. He had to be detached. He had to lie. He had to keep everyone on as short a leash as possible or he would not be safe.

“He was his goofy goober self and it swept you off your princely booted feet?” Jane asked. The phrasing was enough to knock Dirk from his train of thought, which would have definitely spiraled into a bad place if he let it continue. He did not bother to stifle the chuckle it brought out of him.

“I guess he was, yeah. And if you don’t mind me bein’ a total fucking sap, I gotta tell ya, it’s like that one saying about how good thoughts make people beautiful. He never had a bad thing to say about anybody, and probably never thought badly about anyone either, and he always smiled. It was totally a goober smile, but when you live with a bunch of sad sacks, it’s like the sun’s peaking out through the storm of the century to light up the single suckiest day of your life. And by day, I mean the symbolic day that’s supposed to represent your entire life.” He paused, a bit surprised at how much he had dared to say, and while he kept his head forward, he dared not look Jane in the face. “It doesn’t hurt that he’s been lavished by the puberty gods. Like, okay, I know it’s probably weird to hear about someone jonesing for your own flesh and blood, and I would not blame you if you’re grossed out by it because I would feel the same if someone talked about Dave like this to me, but seriously-” He rearranged himself on the couch so he could perch on the cushions. That frightened rabbit’s heart had turned to flooding him with pure elation, and all the things he’d never trusted to anybody were spilling forth. “-No one’s rump should be that perfect, Jane. It is a crime of the highest order. Someone’s got to bring it to justice, right? Who better than me?”

He finally brought his eye’s to Jane’s, and they were met with the oddest sight. Her expression was unreadable again, mixed and ever changing, though this time her cheeks were undeniably red. She had placed a hand on her chest, and it clutched something through the fabric, though what it could be Dirk couldn’t tell.

She let out a long, tired breath. “So – So I suppose I could trust you to treat him well, if his feelings matched with yours?”

Dirk bowed his head. “I’d give him the goddamn world on a silver platter, if he let me. I don’t half-ass things, Jane.” He swallowed. “I’d…love your help, actually, if you’d be willing to give it, but you’re looking pretty frazzled and I get that this is kind of a big thing to hear from someone you don’t know too well. If it’s at all possible, if I could just…have your blessing, as his cousin. Just that would mean everything to me.”

It was just as well that Dirk could not discern Jane’s emotions, for they confused her as well.

“If you keep your word not to hurt him…then, yes, of course!! My blessing is yours.”

After all, no one ever knew what heartbreak was when they first encountered it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really hope I wrote a dude loving another dude right. I'm not a dude, and I'm not a dude who loves dudes, but I'd imagine dude love to not be too different from lady love, outside bits aside.
> 
> There will probably be some major plot elements coming into play within the next few chapters or so, it depends on how I write the next one.


	13. Mystery

“I challenge His Majesty to a duel-”

“For the third goddamn time tonight, Ampora, I _decline_.” When Eridan opened his mouth to speak again, Dirk shot him what had to be a glare. “And when I declined the first time, I expected you to listen and not repeat the same thing two more times.”

If she were paying the least bit attention, Jane would be grateful that the insistent dueling had been overturned. Surely, with how things had gone before, any request for a duel would find its way into her lap. But as it was, her hand had not moved from its place over her hidden pendant. Her face was no longer hot, but her heart was heavy, so heavy that it felt as if it lay at the bottom of her stomach, wishing for nothing more than to dissolve and be forgotten. She could not focus on the banter of the nobles, could not bring herself to look anyone in the eye. Most of all, she could not keep Dirk and what he had shared with her out of her thoughts.

She was silent around the fire, and silent as she left it that night to retire with the others. As they sat in the common area and tried to tire themselves, her silence did not go unnoticed.

“Are you feeling alright, My Lady?” Kanaya asked, her voice quiet in the caravan. No one else was speaking, so her query was heard by all, but Jane did not even start. She kept her gaze riveted on her clasped hands, though she could feel several sets of eyes on her.

“I’m fine,” She said. The words slipped out of their own accord. “Just a little tired.”

“You did seem a little sluggish at dinner,” Rose said, no smirk or smug tone to her voice. It was as if she was genuinely concerned. “Are you having difficulty sleeping at night?”

Dave slumped in his seat. “She wouldn’t be the only one. I can’t catch one wink of sleep with all of Bro’s creepy-ass puppets staring me down, let alone the doctor recommended forty.”

“If you don’t like them, turn them towards the wall,” Dirk said.

“They turn back around!” Dave exclaimed. His brother smirked. “I’m fucking serious! Either they turn around by themselves or you turn them around yourself, I’m sure you’ve got some way you can do that without moving!”

“The autonomy of my puppets aside,” Dirk said, “I’ll have to ask you two to bear through it. We’re only just now coming up to the halfway mark in the march.”

Of course it would be him who made her look up. It hurt to meet the gaze behind his spectacles, and it hurt for her to swallow. “You mean…we’re approaching these Scratchlands?”

Dirk nodded firmly. “Technically, if we get halfway through them, we’ll really be at the halfway point, but just getting to them means that the first leg of our journey is almost over.” He turned his head away. “A good thing, too. I don’t think I’m the only one getting bored of countryside.”

The usual erudite smile returned to Rose’s face. “Dear cousin, you would rather take the perils of the Scratchlands over the easy path of the country? I thought you were concerned only for the well being of your forces. Passing through these lands is very perilous.”

Dirk leaned forward and smirked. “I _know_. Trenches, forest canopies that block out nearly all light, the closest thing either kingdoms have in the way of mountains, this places has everything. You study the list of animals that’re supposed to live in there? Oh, I’m sorry, I forgot. It’s an incomplete list, right? Because everyone who’s tried to document them all either soiled themselves within a week or got eaten by something.”

“You are all fucking _psychotic_ ,” Dave said. He stood up from his seat and began to pace the caravan, his face impassive, his gestures wild. “You two and fucking English, I swear to God. What’s so great about barreling into a danger zone looking for trouble? Did you know he told me he wanted to wrestle a mountain lion? Crispy crap on a cracker, I wouldn’t be surprised if he did, and if either of you get ideas about anything nearing that level of stupidity-”

“I have no such inclinations,” Said Rose, “But I would like to see such a feat with my own eyes.” Jane wanted to laugh, for it was like Jake to want to do something outlandish and crazy like that, but she caught sight of Dirk again. Judging by the subtle softening of his smirk, even she knew he must be thinking the exact same thing, and the chuckle died in her chest.

Dirk leaned back in his seat. “My inclinations are my own business, Dave. But yeah, we should get to the edge in about a day or so, and we’ll be able to see it in the distance soon enough. It didn’t really feel like we were travelling anywhere when everything looked the same, but a change of pace? It’ll definitely be good for morale.”

“And so’d a good night’s sleep,” Dave grumbled.

With a heavy sigh, Dirk gave his brother a languid nudge on the shoulder. “You know what? If it’ll get you to shut your trap, fine. Tell me how to ensure that dear, sweet, precious baby Dave gets his beauty sleep. I am all ears.”

“The solution is simple! So simple that you’ve probably already thought of it.” Dave held out his hands. “We take your puppets-” He made a shoving motion, “And _push_ them somewhere else! Preferably out of our room!”

“As if I’d agree to something like that-”

Even through her hazy malaise, Jane knew that if these two weren’t reigned in, they could banter about this silly puppet thing for hours. Why Rose hadn’t stopped them already was quite clear, for she wore the most amused smirk as they continued, leaning her cheek against her palm as if the argument was a lover’s serenade. As if Jane needed more assurance that the Derse nobles were thoroughly cracked.

“Wouldn’t the problem be solved if you could prove Dirk was moving the puppets?”

Her question stopped the argument, and quickly, the eyes of the caravan turned to Jane. She swallowed thickly.

“I mean – if someone were to, um, conduct some sort of investigation, and make certain that the puppets were not moving on their own…as ridiculous a claim it sounds, it would put your fears to rest somewhat, wouldn’t it Dave?”

A pair of eyebrows shot up from behind round spectacles. “Hm. I guess it would be nice to have someone share my, as you put it, ‘ridiculous claims’. A second opinion would make them a little less ridiculous if they turned out to be true.”

“But how exactly would such an investigation be conducted?” Rose asked. “Surely you do not expect us to invite any third party into our caravan for a night. Such a thing is unheard of.” She turned to Jane and inclined her head. “Is there any sort of procedure you might have in mind? Take a moment to think about it, if you need.”

Need she did. Jane brought her fist to her mouth and pondered, letting her thoughts wash over her in an attempt to ignore the prickle of gazes and the throb in her heart.

“Well,” She finally began, “The easiest way to see if Dirk is the one moving the puppets is to observe the room at night, while everyone is asleep and he is not in the room. If the puppets are in their original place in the morning, it can be said that he did not move them, but _has_ been moving them.”

“He would have to stay out of the room for the entire night for this to work,” Kanaya chimed in, “Or the observer would have to be a particularly light sleeper to catch him in the act.”

“So what do you want to do?” Dirk asked. He had crossed his arms and listened to the idea with the utmost patience. “Have one of you steak out my quarters? No offense, but so long as one dude is present, our loft is a lady free zone.”

Rose clapped once, pulling everyone’s attention towards her. “I think the solution is fairly obvious. The ladies and the gentlemen shall switch rooms for one night to watch for claims of reported paranormal puppetry. And since the suggestion was given in such a timely way, we should follow through tonight, and immediately.” She was smiling again. “That way, Dirk cannot set up any sneaky mechanisms with which to hamper the investigation, if he is so keen on trickery. But he may not be, and that is a possibility I am willing to entertain.”

“The fact that it’s a possibility for you and not certain fact is astronomically stupid, Lalonde.” Dirk steepled his fingers. “But hey, it’s not like we have anything better to do than to entertain each other with investigations. Miss Jane?”

She jumped. “Er, yes?”

“Since you suggested the idea, why don’t you be our primary lookout for marionette mischief tonight?”

Jane could feel her breath stick in her throat. “Wha…me?! But…but I’m not a light sleeper, what if-” What if you come in, she wanted to say, but just the thought of Dirk entering the loft while she slept sent her heart pounding, and her mind’s immediate reaction to the thought was to deny it. How _dare_ she feel that way over a thought! It wasn’t as if-

“Kanaya and I will be there as well, Jane,” Rose said, cutting off her thoughts, “Chances are at least one of us will spot an abnormality.” She leaned closer and placed a hand on Jane’s knee. “Don’t worry yourself over it too much. If something happens, something happens. If not, then at least we can put this silly thing to rest, can’t we?”

“I…” Jane’s gaze fell, her emotions too much an embroiling force for her to think of an argument. “I suppose…?”

And that was how Jane found herself in the Princes’ loft that night. The last she had seen of Dirk was when she had started up the ladder after Rose and Kanaya. Dave had pulled him over to the girls’ ladder, but he seemed hesitant to climb it, to abandon his claim on his space now that it couldn’t be his for a night. She felt rather sorry for him, but it made her feel worse to linger.

The boys’ loft was much more home-like, or at least, it must have been to its proper lodgers. The floor was a mess of papers with half-scrawled poems and illegible blocks of text, clothes were draped over the boards and posts of beds, and shelves very similar to the one Jane had seen in Equius’s cabin lined the walls, displaying levels and levels of neatly presented Smuppets. As much as they did not perturb her, Jane could see why Dave would be a bit intimidated by their ever-present stare. While both beds were fairly similar, the one on the left of the room had to have been Dirk’s. She could tell immediately, and it had nothing to do with her feelings.

“Jiminy _crickets_!! What is _that_????”

She pointed to the…thing…on the bed, though she did not have to, for it had caught Rose and Kanaya’s attentions as well, and neither of them looked pleased to see it. It definitely had to be a puppet of some kind, with floppy, orange pinstripe limbs and a white head. Its jaw hung open lifelessly, though its eyes gleamed in the remnant of the evening light, and its cheeks were two red circles, a hollow imitation of a healthy flush. Kanaya had steadied herself with one of the posts of the opposite bed while Rose stepped forward, and she plucked the puppet up by the scruff of its neck.

“For the love of Light,” Rose mumbled, “I didn’t know he still slept with this abominable thing.”

“But what IS it?” Kanaya asked. She trembled. “Its color scheme is horrendous, and that expression…”

With a shake of her head, Rose leaned over on her tip toes and tossed the thing facedown onto the backs of the Smuppets, its face falling onto one of their comically protruding posteriors. “Just an old piece of comfort for the most powerful young man in Derse. Don’t give it any mind.”

“That’s supposed to be comforting?” Jane asked, aghast.

“It’s Dirk’s. Are you really so surprised?”

Kanaya coughed, and gripped the post tightly as she sank down onto the bed. “Well, if we just keep it there, we don’t have to worry about it, right? The puppets are obviously not moving by themselves. We will put it out of our minds and go to sleep.” She drew her feet up. “I…I rather like this bed, actually.”

Jane made to join her, assuming that saying such a thing meant Kanaya was tired and wanted to rest, but Rose beat her to it. “Dave’s bed does have a sort of comfort to it, doesn’t it?” She mused, prodding the mattress with her fingers as she sat. “Hmm. I think I like it, too.”

“Would you like to sleep here, My Lady?” Kanaya asked.

“Oh, yes, but not alone, and especially not alone in a room filled to the brim with potential proto-Pinocchios.” She turned to Jane and grinned. “You don’t mind me taking your bed partner, do you? Just for one night? I’m sure Dirk’s bed is much more suited to your tastes.”

Jane’s jaw dropped, and she felt a brilliant flush climb up her neck and bloom in her cheeks. “I…excuse me?”

Rose gestured to it. “It’s very sparse on pillows and blankets. You never sleep with them, so I thought you would prefer it.”

Oh…well, that was not what Jane expected to hear. She sniffed and thumbed her nose. Could she really point the finger at Kanaya for taking them in the night?

“Well, that’s…awfully considerate of you! Thank you, Rose.”

No, it wasn’t worth it to toss Kanaya under the caravan. Not when she looked so happy when hers and Rose’s shoulders brushed.

~*~

For a while, keeping still and trying to ignore the rustling and the mouthed, breathy whispers was all Jane could keep herself focused on. She wrapped herself in the thin, thin blanket and curled in on herself, pretending that she did not exist to give the Duchess and her dearest the illusion of privacy. She didn’t think they would do anything particularly illicit with someone else in the room, but it was the least she could do, right?

Eventually, when they finally quieted, Jane rolled over to see Rose and Kanaya asleep, arms loosely wrapped around each other and legs entwined. It was a bit intrusive, Jane knew, but she could only barely stifle the giggle in her chest when she saw that Kanaya had still piled much of the blankets and pillows on her side. She could only hope Rose found it as endearing. Perhaps now, Jane thought, she could get some sleep. She rolled onto her back with closed eyes, and took a deep breath.

With that breath rose the pesky and now familiar ache in Jane’s chest. Dirk’s scent was all around her, though she had never sniffed him before to know. Whose else could it be? This was his bed after all. It was a funny scent, and when Jane tried to break it down, all she could think of was hot mechanics mixed with citrus and spices. It made her heart pound even more, and she pressed an arm to her eyes and sighed.

“I can’t keep ignoring this, can I?” She asked herself, her words more mouthed and less a whisper. Slowly, she brought her free hand to her chest and gripped the pendant underneath her shirt. “These feelings…”

Were they even genuine? They weren’t like before, when she was stricken with that frightening white-hot heat. It was a bit easier to keep her focus, and words pertaining to her condition did not seem to threaten to spill from her tongue with every passing moment. Rather, they seemed to have taken up residence in that increasingly painful lump in her throat, far too fearful to ever be heard. It was more his presence that set her off before, but now just thinking about him was enough, and before…

Before, it was definitely his station and what it meant in relation to hers that fueled this fire. But Jane had overcome that. Who she was did not matter in her efforts – would be more trouble than it was worth, if revealed – and thus, who Dirk was did not matter in them either, beyond the things others thought in relation to their interaction. But in truth, even their opinions of that was a nonexistent factor when it came to saving Jake. It was how easily Dirk had accepted her into his little fold of society, it was his honesty with her, it was when something she said pressed a key in him that let out note after note of simmering, secret enthusiasm that a crown prince really couldn’t show to the world, lest he be seen as less than prepared for his duties. It was when he pulled her strings in a way that she could feel it, and knowing that he wanted her to pick up on it and challenge him for it; it was sticking up for her even when he knew she was being reckless and helping her because he could, and it was because he could that he wanted to. It was falling into the strangest friendship she had ever experienced, and…being so, so confused that it could never advance further.

It was being told fairytales all her life to learn that reality did not always mirror them, and that sometimes, fair maidens reached the towers of the princes they come to save only to see that someone’s absconded with their hearts before they had the chance, someone who used to keep the maidens safe and loved in times of danger. And it was that fact that twisted the throbs of Jane’s heart with bitter, futile, human pain. Pricks of wetness met her arm, and she wiped at them.

“Oh, dash it all,” She said, and she opened her eyes. “I…I love him, don’t I?”

Her question was met with a wide, glazed gaze and a hanging mouth.

Jane flinched back immediately, hands grabbing for something to swing with, anything, and when they fell on Dirk’s sad excuse for a pillow they latched on, and she beaned the puppet in the face. It flew across the room and hit the wall with a smack, sliding down into a lifeless pile of limbs. She was panting. Why was she panting? Why hadn’t the puppet been face deep in the ass of its brethren like before? Had it-

Panic seized Jane’s heart. Had that puppet actually moved?

“…Thinking that makes it even more ridiculous!” She said to herself, and with a groan she flopped back onto the bed.

Something different and new crinkled underneath her. Jane’s brows knitted together, and she lifted her head and reached back until her fingertips brushed paper instead of cloth. She grabbed it immediately, and sat up, turning the object over in her hands. It was an envelope, sealed with a droplet of wax in the back and on the front – on the front her name was written in bright red. Her eyes widened. What in the world was an envelope for her doing in Dirk’s bed? He couldn’t have put it here for her to find, he hadn’t even been allowed in his room when they decided on switching. She slid her thumb under the flap and opened the envelope, eager to read its contents. Hey, her name was on the front, wasn’t it? So it belonged to her!

Inside the envelope was a square of folded paper. Jane unfolded it and held it up to the moonlight, squinting at the red letters:

**hey there jane**

**if youve found this letter then it means it was about time for you to read it**

**things are happening**

**shit is about to hit the fan and its supposed to**

**we gotta set it into motion you and me**

**nobody else can handle this shit it is far too real**

**realer than churros dipped in chocolate man have you ever tried that**

**but seriously i gotta stay on topic or ill waste the only paper i have**

**the short of it is**

**yes**

**the puppet moves**

**you wanna know why**

**pick it up by the scruff of its neck and take him to the bastard with billiards for eyes**

**do whatever you gotta do to get answers from him and if you dont like dem apples then toss em in his face**

**peace out**

**oh and also**

**if you wanna know where this letter came from and i know you do**

**turn this around**

Jane narrowed her eyes and flipped the paper over, but there was nothing else written on it. Who in the world could have left her this, and with such a cliffhanger too? How would they know she had been prompted to lift the pillow by that darned puppet-

Her train of thought had led her to look up, and when she did, the puppet was sitting neatly at the foot of the bed, eyes locked on her, limbs set in place. She jerked back.

Rose and Kanaya slept peacefully on the other bed, and she would have heard the boys on the ladder for sure. The letter was highly mysterious, but a frightening toy that could move on its own? Now that could do anything, and that she at least had something of a lead on. Mustering her courage, Jane leaned forward, grabbed the puppet by the scruff of its neck (she wasn’t sure if doing something different would lead to something bad) and left the boys’ loft, left the caravan, and sprinted to the Lord’s. She had figured out who the letter had met pretty quickly. Anyone who had seen the Lord’s eyes when he was particularly angry and wanted to ensure his own way would have known.

She did not hesitate when she reached his door, and she rapped upon it with fervor. When no one came immediately, she knocked a second time. She was about to knock for a third time when the door clicked, and swung open very slowly. It was bright in the caravan and dark outside, so Jane blinked several times to adjust, but when she could see, she gasped.

It was the blank eyes and heavy, spiraled horns of Lady Damara that greeted her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What seems obvious is a twist, and what seems like a strange mystery can prove to be an interesting catalyst for big future events! You guys're lucky this is exciting, or I wouldn't have been nearly as quick as writing it!
> 
> I'm sorry I didn't come out and say it on here, but since the last chapter I've been taking a little break and trying to sort my priorities out. That's the short of it, really, and I don't think I should go into the long of it. Still can't give you an update schedule, but I can give you one hell of a beginning to a new arc, can't I?


	14. Diversion

Damara scowled and folded her arms. “Maid is very, _very_ late.”

What was she even doing here? Jane hadn’t seen Damara around the fires, or in the march. Had she been lounging in the Lord’s caravan this entire time? Considering how they were involved, Jane did not want to think of the particulars of her former mistress’s situation.

“I’m not your maid,” Jane said. Her grip on the puppet tightened considerably. “Not anymore. In case you hadn’t been informed, m’lady, I gave that up some time ago.”

That brought a genuine laugh out of the troll, a laugh that sounded far too akin to Aradia’s to be comforting. “Maid is always maid,” She said, “Giving up? Escaping? Not the same.” She leaned against the doorframe and swept Jane with her eyes. “If not late, why come?”

Without flourish or fanfare, Jane presented the puppet. “I wish to speak to the Lord about this.”

“And if Lord is sleeping?” Damara asked. Jane’s grip tightened so much that the puppet shook in her hand. She did not need this, she had a lead and a toy possessed and she would not rest until she had her answers! Fear and station be damned in the fires they were forged-

“Well, then, rouse him and I’ll make it quick!”

There was a sudden creak from within the caravan, and Damara turned her head so quickly that she almost knocked into Jane with her horns.

“Damara…” A voice rasped, low with exhaustion, “Let in the impertinent visitor. And I will see them.”

The troll sniffed, but she stepped back into the caravan and gestured for Jane to follow. Lord Caliborn’s caravan was by far the most…decorated. Even Feferi’s lace and frills could not compete. Here, like the House of Lords, most every surface was covered with that green velvety felt, and there were all manner of artifacts on display, many having been turned into makeshift candelabras. A suit of armor held a lit flame in his helmet and the light spilt from the grate; a small sphinx held a dripping candle in the grasp of its tail; numerous skulls of all shapes and sizes were mounted on the wall, and each sported little candles behind colored glass in the eyes. They were mostly centered in the tiny sitting area, so there was not much light elsewhere, but on the edge of the darkness stood a tall, garish grandfather clock. Its tick reverberated through Jane, and as Damara led her to the only couch in the sitting area, she clenched her jaw tightly and wondered why she had never heard it when she passed the caravan. It was very loud, and its chime was probably even louder.

The couch was pushed up against a ledge, where a window jutted out, covered in lace. Jane perched on the edge of its hard cushions, and Damara backed away towards the darkness. “Lord will need help,” She said simply, and she disappeared as if she had never been. Frowning, Jane looked back down to the puppet in her hand. It gazed on, still and innocent as ever, but she was not about to set it down. Who knows what could happen to it here? The letter was still in Jane’s other hand, but she made no move to hide it.

After a stretching silence, there was another creak, and a familiar groan floated down from above. Then the footsteps came – heavy and slow, one a fleshy thump and the other a hollow thud, until from the shadows his form emerged. He would look much more threatening if his eyelids were not drooping, if he had not donned a night gown and a drooping cap to sleep in, but Jane couldn’t help the shiver of fear that shot up her spine.

What she could see of Lord Caliborn’s eyes pinned Jane to the spot with their gaze. “Oh. It is the Jane human,” He said, and he reached behind him and pulled a stool from the darkness. It was almost funny, how this green hulk of a creature, this god-like titan of the cosmos, could sit on a tiny stool in his nightclothes before his former maid and not seem to think a thing of it. He rubbed at his eyes with the heel of his hand. “Why have you come calling. At this obscene and ridiculous hour. I demand an explanation.”

Why had she come again? Though it was faint, Jane could feel the Cherub’s terror creeping into her subconscious. Why had she woken him, why had she risked it? Why-

No, Jane thought, and her hand tightened around the letter this time, not the puppet. No, she could not let him win. Not this time.

“I…I have a question for you,” Jane said.

“A question,” Caliborn parroted. “It’d better not be. A heaping pile of bullshit.”

Jane felt herself bristle. “It is not bullshit of any kind!” She said, and she brandished the puppet for him to see. The Lord’s eyes widened. “This…thing. This thing can move, and it moves all on its own. I have reason to believe you know why!”

The puppet was quickly ripped from Jane’s grasp, and she pulled her hand back in surprise. Caliborn held the puppet just as she did, by the scruff of its neck, in between the claws on his thumb and forefinger. He stared at it for a good long time before sliding his gaze back to her, all sleepy pretense gone. “And how did you gain access to this?”

Her insides ran cold. “I…well…Dave said the puppets were moving, and…we decided to conduct an investigation-”

“And why do you think I am responsible?!” Caliborn threw the puppet back at Jane, and it hit her hard in the stomach. “Answer me!!”

“I-It was a letter! I found it addressed to me, I don’t know who wrote it-”

“GIVE IT TO ME!!!”

His eyes were flashing colors, and Jane bit her tongue to keep from screaming, her heart drowning in pure and undiluted terror. She thrust the letter out in front of her, and that was snatched away, nearly torn in two. Caliborn made quick work of the message before he turned it over and growled at the blank back.

“What sorcery is this?!” He bellowed. Frantically, he began to hold the letter to his different colored lights. “Reveal to me your secrets little paper! Tell me your author! I am the Lord of Lords. And I demand to know!!!”

It was under the red light that even Jane caught sight of a change. The paper must have been treated in some way, for when the light shone through it, there was a clear and darkened marking in its very fibers that read:

**MAGNETS**

Caliborn snarled. “Magnets! So it is THAT sort of deception. Is it?”

Magnets? What did they have to do with anything? With his focus shifted and with a claim so ridiculous, his hold was broken, and the terror cleared from Jane’s head. She watched with a bit of curiosity as he began to scrounge through his belongings, until he came upon a rock the size of a snake’s rattle. He began to rub the paper with it furiously, first the blank end, then the written, and it was on the written that he began to laugh. His was a boisterous and unsettling laugh.

“Hah. Hah hah! Oh mysterious magnets. No one knows how you work! But your magic is real!!”

“Magic?” Jane asked. Caliborn cackled.

“See it for yourself Jane human! The magic of magnets!” After glancing at the contents himself, the Lord frowned and thrust the letter at her. “It causes no harm. To let even a girl read this. Especially one who would not understand the meaning of the message.” Jane glanced at Caliborn briefly before she looked down at the paper. She thought he was merely being his detestable self, but it was true – Jane could not understand the message, for whatever it was had been written in cogs and lines and circles. It sparked a memory in her, though, of what she knew of the Art of Time. Hadn’t someone mentioned it was written like the inside of a clock? Rose, perhaps, or Dave? So at the very least, Jane could surmise that the author was one who studied Time. But other than Caliborn, only Aradia and Dave practiced it, and while the speech patterns were very much like the second Prince of Derse, it could not have been him. He was the prompt for the investigation, sure, but he could never have known Jane would suggest it.

All this Jane supposed in the brief moment allowed to her to examine the letter. As quickly as it was shown to her, Lord Caliborn took it away and shoved it between the grate of the knight’s helmet, and its flame flared brightly. “No one need see this,” He muttered to himself, and he turned his eyes back to Jane. “You may go,” He said.

“But you haven’t answered me!”

His eyes flashed, and though the terror rose within her, Jane did not balk. She couldn’t, not when his destruction of the letter was so telling! If the symbols on it did not worry him, why did he destroy it?

“I said you may GO!”

“NO!!” She jumped to her feet. In the darkness, a pair of milky eyes peered out to watch her. They were Damara’s, they could be no one else’s. “I have a right to know the truth about this puppet, I demand to know! And if you will not tell me what I wish to know, then…”

Then what? Suddenly, she itched for her trident, and it was then that she knew. But such a thing…it would be suicide, wouldn’t it? Would she even survive if she proposed a duel with-

There was a knock at the door.

“Oh, who comes now?” Caliborn snarled. He stalked to his door and tore it open, and immediately the fierce anger fell from his expression. He took a breath. “I did not call for you.”

“And yet I came regardless,” Said a voice. It was Dirk’s. Jane felt her heart throb anew, but she was aware of all sorts of things tonight, it seemed, and she strained to keep her ears open and her mind focused. “I don’t know why you’ve been screaming through the night, but I wish for my cousin’s Lady in Waiting to be returned. It’s late as balls, and she hasn’t been feeling well.”

“Take her!” Caliborn stepped back to allow Dirk entrance. “Fuck knows I do not need. A bitch in my quarters!”

If by bitch he meant woman, then he already had one in Damara, and Jane was about to say as much when a head poked into the caravan. For a moment, she could not recognize the face. It was as if it missed something, but everything that a face should have was there. The head, the cheeks, the nose, the brows, the eyes – the eyes were especially strange. Ringed with dark bags, they were the most brilliant orange Jane had ever seen, and when they locked with hers, the face winced, as if it were not used to such a thing. As if they were used to a barrier between themselves and the world.

“Jane,” Dirk said. She felt her heart skip a beat. “Come on, let’s get out of here. Do I have to make it a royal decree?”

“Y-Yes, Your Majesty – I mean, no! No, Your Majesty!” She darted forward, hurrying past Damara’s eyes and Caliborn’s form, only stopping when an arm caught her on the steps of the caravan.

“Not so fast,” Dirk said, “We should at least bid His Lordship goodnight before we go? And, you know, apologize? Because it’s hells of late?” He turned her around slowly, and she clutched the puppet to her chest. When she did not move, Dirk placed his hand between her shoulder blades and helped her bow as he did. Caliborn watched, exhaustion returning to his expression. “Forgive us, My Lord. Goodnight, My Lord.”

“G’night, M’Lord,” Jane choked out.

Caliborn’s silence was palatable, but in time he cleared his throat and stepped back, deeper into the caravan, and shut the door in their faces without so much as goodnight. Even when he was terrifying, he was completely abominable, and Jane shivered where she stood for a moment. She did not move until she realized that Dirk had not yet let her side, and she turned to look at him. He looked away immediately, but…had he been looking at her? Such a thing might as well have been a knife in her chest.

“How did you…” She swallowed hard. “How did you know where I was?”

“I followed you,” Dirk said. He still refused to meet her gaze, though he turned her around again and led her slowly away from the Lord’s caravan. “I heard something hitting the wall of the loft, and then I heard you leave. I had to follow.” His eyes flickered to the puppet in her grasp. “Could I have Lil’ Cal back please?”

Jane stopped, and no matter how Dirk nudged her, she did not move. “Lil’ who?”

“The dude in your arms, Jane. He’s mine. I need him back.”

Her hold tightened. “What? No, I can’t give this thing to you! Dave was right, the puppets do move, or at least this one does! We don’t know what that could mean, it could be dangerous-”

“It is dangerous,” Dirk said. He did not seem the least bit phased by her claim. “But it’s better that I take him. Trust me, you don’t want to know what that thing is capable of.”

“Why should I trust you about it?” Jane asked. She shook herself from Dirk’s arm. “There has been nothing but strangeness this entire night, and – and you can’t even look me in the eye!” Something hot slid down her cheeks. “I am very tired of being denied an explanation!”

It was then that Dirk looked at her. He really was bare without his spectacles. Before, it seemed a privilege to notice that he had eyes at all, but now it was almost too much. His eyes could not rest on Jane long. “You’re crying,” He said, and though his words were simple, they stung. Jane hated this, she realized. She hated being curious about this crazy boy, she hated being concerned for him, and she hated the concern he showed for her in return. She realized why as her thoughts cascaded, filled to the brim with facts and questions and supposes: his concern would never be as hers had become. If his heart ached, it would be for reasons unrelated to her, and she would go on with his name scarred across hers.

And there was nothing that could be done about it.

Well, there were things, the selfish bit of her mind knew, but then again, selfish did not make right, and selfish would destroy her purpose here. Jane choked back a sob at the thought.

A pair of arms wrapped around her, and her wet eyes were pressed against a shoulder. “I’m sorry,” Dirk said quietly, “I’m sorry. It’s hard to explain, it’s really fucking hard, and I’m in no position to right now. Come on, I’ll put you to bed.”

Dirk led Jane to the caravan, back to the girls’ original loft. With a bit of effort, he managed to rouse Dave onto to relocate him to the couches below; his brother said nothing, but as he left he flipped them a tired yet emphatic bird. Dirk tucked Jane into bed and made to take the puppet away, but she clutched it tighter.

“No, no,” She said, “No, it’ll move again, it’s dangerous…”

“That’s why I’ll hold him,” Dirk said. He rested his hands on Jane’s. “I’ll watch him. I promise he won’t move, alright?”

He whispered his reassurance until Jane began to doze, and her grip on Lil’ Cal slackened enough for him to slip it out. Dirk sat on the floor, back against Jane’s bed, and sighed, staring the puppet straight in the eye.

“You can’t let me have one night to sleep?” He asked it aloud. “You’re a shitty friend, bro.”

The vacant eyes of Lil’ Cal flickered with billiards.

~*~

The morning should have been one of confusion at the night’s shuffled sleeping arrangements. The Princes, the Duchess, Jane, and Kanaya should have been able to sort out everything over breakfast and joined the trolls and troops for the march ahead. But instead, Jane was woken early by a great and consuming hubbub.

She was alone in the girls’ loft when she opened her eyes, the events from the night before a painful blur. When she descended below, no one was there to greet her, and on an impulse, Jane headed for the boys’ loft. It had been blocked by something, so she could not check of anyone was there, so she decided to head outside.

What had started as a murmur in the caravan became a full blown assault on Jane’s ears. Troops had flooded the circle, and here and there she thought she spotted a noble amongst their people, trying to calm them down or demanding answers. She clung to the caravan, afraid she would get swept up in the pandemonium.

“Jane! Hey, Jane!” Aradia burst through the crowds, the black cloud of her hair even messier than usual, and she hurried over to take her by the hand. “There you are! You won’t believe what’s happened!”

“I can barely believe what’s _happening_ ,” Jane said, and she gestured to the troops. “I’ve never seen the camp like this, what’s going on?”

“Come on, I’ll show you! Hold on tight!”

That was the only warning Aradia gave before she pulled Jane into the throng. She didn’t even have time to object, and what could she do once she was in the thick of everyone? Let go, and be pulled away in the tide of confusion? Jane did her best to keep up, gripping Aradia’s hand tightly.

It was only when they broke through the people did Jane realize there was a large gap where Lord Caliborn’s caravan had stood, for it was now in the very center of the camp, partially sunk in what had been the fire pit. It looked relatively intact, but there was something carved upon the door, something that had caught the attention of the Princes and Duchess of Derse. The three of them were examining the carving, conversing in hushed tones. Aradia pulled Jane closer.

“Lord Caliborn’s gone,” Aradia said, “When we woke up, his caravan was like this, and I even checked inside, but there wasn’t a trace of him around.” She grinned widely. “And before you ask, yes, I was very careful! Everyone else was too chicken to go inside, but it’s not like I haven’t gone in there before.”

Jane’s brows furrowed. “Just Lord Caliborn is gone? What about Lady Damara?”

“Who’s that?” Aradia asked. Jane gestured to Aradia’s horns.

“What do you mean, who? She – she looks a lot like you, but older, and her eyes are all white! She’s his consort, surely she’d be hard to miss! I saw her just last night!”

The troll snorted, and covered her mouth for her free hand. “Are you sure you’re okay, Jane? Lord Caliborn wasn’t traveling with anybody.”

“But I know it was her! I had to listen to her every command when I worked in his house-”

“What’s going on? My Lady, what’s gotten you so upset?” Kanaya came up on Jane’s other side, and placed a hand on her shoulder. “Surely it can wait?” She asked, “As you can see, there’s a bit of a situation…”

“But…but-”

“But nothing, My Lady,” Kanaya said. She gently pried Jane’s hand from Aradia’s. “I am sorry Lady Megido, but I think our dear Miss Jane is a bit out of sorts. Perhaps rushing her to the scene of our dismay was not the wisest course of action.”

Aradia shrugged, the subtle quip rolling off her back. “I don’t think something like this is enough to make somebody talk about lookalike trolls with white eyes. It’s not nearly a high enough level of horrifying to start seeing ghosts.”

Jane gaped, and shook Kanaya’s hand away, turning to face her and Aradia. “I am NOT making her up,” She said, and she could feel her throat forming a lump. Both trolls looked at her oddly. “I couldn’t make up three years of contempt and errands and – I _couldn’t_!”

“I didn’t say you made it up, Jane,” Aradia said. She held her hands up in front of her in a motion of peace. “I just said-”

Kanaya pushed her hands down. “Don’t repeat it, it’s obviously not helping,” She hissed. It was then that Rose cleared her throat. She still stood with her cousins, but she watched the three of them with narrowed eyes.

“If you are done accusing each other of lunacy, ladies, your presence would be appreciated,” She said. Jane could feel her back straightening at Rose’s words. “Lady Megido, two heads are better than one, and I am sure Sir Dave would appreciate your help in deciphering the message on the door. Jane, His Majesty mentioned that you were one of the last people to see our dear Cherub Lord, and if you two could share what you know of him, a possible explanation could surface.” She paused to smile. “Kanaya, you I would simply prefer to have by my side.”

They divided to go to where they were needed, Jane with a bit of reluctance. The disappointment that she had found within herself last night was worming its way into her consciousness again, though she grit her teeth and did her best to ignore it as she came to Dirk’s side. He was wearing his spectacles again, though Jane was sure she saw his eyes flicker to her for just a moment before he pointedly looked away, back to the carving.

“Good morning, Miss Jane,” He said, his tone even and calm, “Sleep well?”

“Good morning yourself, Your Majesty. Did you sleep at all?”

“Not a wink. Had to keep you safe from Lil’ Cal, after all.”

Jane gaped at him. “You didn’t really-”

“I am a man of my word, Jane, and if I say I’m going to keep you safe then I am.” She shoved his shoulder.

“So you _knew_ -”

“Of course I fucking _knew_ ,” Dirk whispered. He jerked his head towards Dave, who had remained oblivious to their conversation and was absorbed in the carvings. “Can Twenty Questions wait until we’re alone? I didn’t tell anybody about _why_ you and I were the last to see Caliborn. In fact, I’m not even totally sure how you came to the conclusion to go to him in the first place.”

“Was I wrong in going to him?” Jane asked. She crossed her arms. “That’s the last time I trust a mysterious letter.”

This seemed to catch Dirk’s attention. He turned away from the carving, and Jane knew his eyes were on her. She could feel them, intense and demanding. “What mysterious letter?”

“The one I found on your bed after…well, after your puppet friend played his hand. It was addressed to me, of course I was going to open it.” Dirk groaned when he heard this, and ran a hand through his hair in frustration.

“So let me get this straight. You open, read, and listen to the advice of a mysterious letter. A letter that obviously couldn’t have come from any of us, since how could we have known that you’d be in my loft and in a position to find it and understand whatever it told you? And it tells you to go to fucking Caliborn.”

“It told me to ask him how the puppet moved,” Jane said. “You know more than you’re letting on about it. Tell me, would he know why it moves, or was that letter a symbolic red herring?”

Dirk gave her a hesitant nod. “Yeah, he would know,” He said, “You lucked out that it gave you a good tip, I’ll give you that, but your luck isn’t going to last forever if you keep doing reckless shit like that. But what happened when you actually talked to Caliborn? How did he react?”

“He got angry,” Jane said. She did not think to bring up Lady Damara again, not when mentioning her to the girls had gotten such a negative reaction before. “The end of the letter said something about looking at the back to learn who wrote it, and he was just as stumped as I was, but then he started holding the letter under all his differently colored lights, and under the red light, there was a message.”

“The letter writer’s identity?” Dirk asked. Jane shook her head.

“No. It just said ‘magnets’.”

He hummed. “Magnets, huh? That’s a weird connection if I ever heard one.” When he noticed Jane’s quizzical expression, Dirk elaborated. “I think Dave and I mentioned a clown religion to you once. It’s weird as fuck, really popular with the indigo troll set, and it’s basically a Cherub Worship Cult. They don’t really do any harm if you don’t provoke them, but they’re usually highly loyal to His Lordship and Prospit’s equivalent. If they knew anything even the slightest bit incriminating about either of them, they certainly wouldn’t go around spreading that sort of information. But the magnet paper is a tool of theirs used for secrecy. Its nature – the ‘magnets’ message – is revealed under certain kinds of light, and if you take a magnet and rub whatever’s written on it, another secret message appears, usually one that the author doesn’t want just anybody to see.”

Jane’s eyes widened. “So that was why the letters changed to the Language of Time when he used a magnet on it! But how could a magnet do all that?”

Dirk shrugged. “Probably because nobody really knows how magnets work. They’re Cherub made, and even they have no fucking clue. But hold that thought for a second, you said Language of Time?” He pointed to the carving in the door. “Did what appeared on the paper look anything like that?”

Jane squinted her eyes and drew closer to the door to get a better look. The carvings were, in fact, the Language of Time, but they were definitely not like the elaborate circles she had seen on the paper. She shook her head. “Not at all. There’s more on the door than there were on the letter.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m positive. I wish I still had the letter to show you, but Caliborn burned it before you came to get me.” Dirk pressed the heels of his hands to his temples, his brow furrowing.

“Fuck me with a rusty rake,” He groaned, “We need some kind of clue as to where he’s gone. The last thing I needed in the middle of a war march is one of his stupid fucking tantrums.”

There was a whistle from beside them, and Jane and Dirk turned to see that Dave and Aradia had backed away from the carvings with a giddy bounce to their steps. “We figured it out!” Aradia exclaimed. “We figured it out, you guys aren’t going to believe what it says!”

“Shit, Time Buddy, don’t set it up like that,” Dave said, “What if they do believe it and’re severely let down by what you laid out?”

“Cut the crap and spill it, Dave,” Dirk said. The younger Prince shrugged.

“Man, you are never one for suspense. Alright, alright, here’s the deal.” He jabbed his finger at the first two circles. “These are names. There’s no one symbol for a name in the Language of Time, so what’s done is the writer puts all the little individual symbols for the letters in one big circle. The first circle is you, Bro, and the second one? It’s our dear Miss Jane.”

What in the world could that mean, Jane thought. Who would take the time to carve hers and Dirk’s names into the door?

“The symbol for ‘human’ is right near them, too, so I’m pretty sure there’s only one loveable douchehulk who could have left this message,” Dave continued.

Aah. Now that made sense.

“The rest of the message is fairly straightforward,” Aradia said, “He’s asking to talk privately with you in the Scratchlands. Search me as to why, but doing something weird like this is definitely Lord Caliborn’s work. I’d say you two should see what it is he wants.”

“Didn’t think he’d been working on his penmanship though,” Dave commented, “Shit, I had no idea he knew how to write legibly.”

Was this for real? There was a mild terror churning up in Jane at the thought of it all. What in the world did the Lord want to speak to her about, and with Dirk no less? And for that matter, if they did go, she would be stuck with Dirk alone for who knows how long it took them to track down and speak with Caliborn! While she was certain nothing would come of it, the prospect of heartache in any form was not one Jane looked forward to.

Eventually, Dirk turned away from the carving and cleared his throat. “We can’t let his tantrum stall the march,” He said, “Miss Jane and I will go ahead, on our own, to find him. I’m sure he’ll leave a trail we can follow. In the meantime-” He pointed to Dave and Rose, “I want you two to lead the way through the Scratchlands. When you reach the tree line, go down about a mile south, and do your best to go west in a relatively straight line. Wait for us when you get to the other side, we’ll reconvene and continue into Prospit from there. Am I clear?”

Dave gave a little salute. “Crystal, sir.”

“I wouldn’t dream of suggesting anything else,” Rose said.

Jane looked between the three. “Wait a second, I…I don’t get a say in this, do I?”

“You’re one of the people he wants to speak to, Jane,” Aradia said, “I don’t think you could weasel out of going if you tried.”

“But-” But what of Jake, she wanted to ask, how would she save him if she had to be further and further away from him? What little progress she had made would be reduced to nothing.

There was an arm around her shoulder. “Don’t make a face like it’s the end of the world, geez,” Dirk said, “I’ll have a couple horses ready and some supplies and we’ll head right out. He can’t be very far in yet, he’ll be easy to find.”

Jane gulped. “I, I’ve never ridden a horse before,” She said.

“Then we’ll ride together on mine,” He said, and shrugged. “I don’t mean to brag, but when it comes to handling multiple riders and baggage, Maplehoof is simply the best there is.”

“It’s not really the riding I’m worried about,” She said. For a moment, Jane thought she saw Dirk’s eyes flicker to her again.

“Yeah, I don’t blame you for that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the only time there will ever be two updates so close to each other. I had the time, and this stuff is getting exciting for me, so I was very eager to finish it up for you guys!
> 
> That being said, it looks as if Jane is getting diverted from her quest! But she will prevail in the end, I assure you. It'll just take a while.
> 
> A long while.
> 
> Probably while ramping up towards the true climax of the story. No, we aren't there yet.


	15. Trap

Maplehoof was, in fact, one of the most beautiful horses Jane had ever seen. She had never been in the vicinity of many, so perhaps that was a bit of a broad judgment. She was quite large, her coat and mane the color of fresh, clean snow, and the symbol for the Art of Heart had been branded into her flank. Whoever took care of her must have been very careful with that brand, cleaning it as it healed to keep it free from infection and caring for her when she was in pain. She stood ready to go within an hour of Dirk’s decision to pursue Lord Caliborn, laden with bags and a saddle, and Jane marveled at how she did not waver, a hand on the hilt of her trident.

“She’ll be able to carry us, too?” She asked.

“’Course she will,” Dirk said, “She’s Maplehoof.” In one swift motion, Dirk pulled himself up on his steed’s back, and he held a hand out to Jane and loosed a foot from a stirrup. “Step up on that and grab on,” He said, and Jane couldn’t not shoot him a flat expression.

“I’ll fall back on my bottom,” She said.

“I won’t let you. Come on, we’re burning daylight.”

With a huff, Jane obliged, and once her hand was in Dirk’s he pulled her quickly and hard. She nearly shrieked in that moment between ground and horse, but somehow she found herself seated neatly behind him. Once her foot slipped out of the stirrup, Dirk’s slipped right back in and nudged Maplehoof with his heels. She jerked forward into a trot, and Jane wrapped her arms around Dirk’s waist without any prompting. The horse’s gait was alarming to her, and she was not sure she could stay balanced without holding something, even if that something was someone who was the subject of far too many of her confused thoughts.

Some of the troops shouted well-wishes and farewells as they passed, but Dirk stopped for none of them – none, that is, except for the very last solider on the edge of the legions of troops. Even Jane would have stopped for that voice, if she had been in control.

“Your Majesty! A moment, if you will!”

Dirk pulled on Maplehoof’s reigns and turned her ‘round to face who had called. It was Jake who rushed forward to meet them, his usual grin dimmed. “English,” Dirk said curtly. Jane felt his back tense through his shirt and waistcoat. “Make it short, it’s your benefactor I’ve gotta play peek-a-boo out there with.”

“Of course, of course!” Jake shifted from foot to foot, his gaze flitting from Dirk to Jane. It hurt to see his eyes without that sparkle of recognition in them, and Jane could not bring herself to look at them. “I just – I want to wish you luck finding him. He’s never told me a bloody thing, not one little inkling in his mind, but I didn’t thinkt him to be the type to light off without a word!”

“You were never around to see his tantrums,” Jane mumbled bitterly.

“What was that, Miss Jane? I’m a trifle deaf in that ear, you’ll have to speak up.”

It was precisely because his hearing was off in one ear that she mumbled. “It’s nothing, J - Your Lordship,” She said. The title was funny in her mouth. “We’ll…we’ll find him, so please don’t worry yourself about it.” He’s really not worth the worry, she wanted to say.

“And even if we don’t, we’ll be fine,” Dirk said. He leaned slightly so he did not have to look down his nose at Jake. “You’re essentially his heir, right?”

Jake shrugged. “If things get down to the nitty-gritty, then yes, I suppose.”

“So we’ll be cool.” He reached a hand out and rested it on Jake’s shoulder, a smirk finding its way onto his face. “The reign of Jake English, Lord of Lords, advising King and Country…sounds pretty fucking rad to me.”

Jake’s grin shifted to a grimace. “Er, Your Majesty, your hand…y-you’ve got quite the grip, you know! And I don’t mean to insult-”

“Picture it-” Dirk said, and when he lifted his hand to make a frame with his other, Jake let out a grunt of relief and rubbed the aching spot. This was what caught Dirk’s attention, and he dropped his hands. “Something the matter, English?”

“Oh! Oh, no, not a, _ngh_ , not a thing!” He laughed that unshakeable laugh of his and bowed his head. “But look at this, I’m keeping you all tied up for nothing! Whatever machinations you might have up in that noggin of yours, I’d be honored to hear them when you return!” Then Jake turned to Jane. He smiled in a way that was friendly, a kindness you offer to someone whom you know is important but cannot quite place why. “And you, Miss Jane. Do be careful. I…I have heard what you’ve been up to with these noble types.”

She felt her eyes widen. “You – you’ve been keeping up with news of me?”

“Of course I have! We’re birds of a feather through the Lord, aren’t we?” He held out his hand. “Wrassling a gaggle of trolls takes all sorts of gumption. I don’t think I’d have been brave enough to call anyone out like that. You’re admirable Miss Jane, in more ways than one!”

He only said it that way because he didn’t remember her right. Surely Jake would be upset at how needlessly she’d put herself in danger if his mind hadn’t been tampered with. It hurt to think of his compliment like that, though, and Jane could not leave him hanging. She took his hand in hers and gave it a firm shake.

“Thank you…Your Lordship.”

This time, saying the title was painful.

“You’ll both do well to stay safe, yes?” Jake asked as he let go of Jane’s hand, “There’s all sorts of beasties and nasties in the Scratchlands, I’ve heard, and it might be a bit much for just two people to handle.”

“That a challenge, English?” Dirk asked. His back was absolutely rigid, and he turned his gaze towards the horizon. “I’ll have you know I’m not scared of anything in that place. I don’t get scared. It simply doesn’t happen.” It sounded like a bunch of baloney bravado to Jane, but she kept her mouth shut. “You just worry about getting my guys through in one piece, okay? I’m holding you accountable. One motherfucker scratches himself and gets gangrene, and it’s your head. You feel me?”

Jake’s smile faltered, and he gave Dirk a salute. “Ah – yes, yessir! You are abso-friggin-lutely crystal clear!” He laughed and looked back to the troops. “Well would you look at that! I think I may just be plum out of time! You two ought to be going, shouldn’t you?” Dirk opened his mouth, surely to launch another quip at him, and Jane squeezed his middle with particular force, turning his words into a sharp gasp.

“We really should,” Jane said, “Do forgive us! The Lord won’t find himself and all that.”

“- _Cripes_ , Jane,” Dirk hissed through gritted teeth. She wasn’t bold enough to squeeze him again, but once was enough, for he took a deep breath and nodded. “-I mean, uh yeah. Right. We better get on that. Remember, English, your head.”

“My head, Your Majesty!” He parroted cheerfully. It was as if his earlier dread was completely forgotten, and as Maplehoof hurried forward, Jane supposed that Jake really might have pushed it from his mind. She looked back as he and the troops shrank in the distance, clinging to Dirk as the mare’s canter sped to a gallop.

“You get away with a lot of shit because you’re my friend, you do realize that,” Dirk shouted to her over the thud of their mount’s hooves. “The fuck was your hug of death for? I was having a conversation.”

“You were being mean!” Jane exclaimed. “I thought you liked Jake!”

“That’s how I show people I like them,” Dirk said, and he leaned forward, wrapping the reigns around his hands. “I test them. You fucking _know_ this.”

Jane had to kick down the spike of heat in her stomach at the implication in his words. It had been so much easier when the thoughts were not really her own. “That was too mean to be a test! It was clearly a threat – he’s my cousin, _you_ know _that_!” She was too scared of the speed and her height to try and readjust herself, lest she tumble from Maplehoof’s back. With a grunt, Dirk reached behind and pulled Jane down flush against his back. “Oh!!”

“So what, you think I’d actually take his head off? I might kick his ass around the block and back, but let me assure you, I wouldn’t be so cruel as to sever something that I’d want attached. Empty as it is, Jake needs his head.” There was a dark mass coming up on the horizon now, creeping along its expanse like frost on a winter morning. “Or are you implying something else?”

“All I meant is what I said! He’s my cousin. He’s family, and he’s dear to me! Wouldn’t you react the same way if someone said such things to Rose or Dave?”

Oh, that really got to him. Jane could tell, for Dirk leaned further forward until he nearly touched Maplehoof’s bobbing neck. He didn’t answer, either, so she took his silence for a yes, even as it stretched on through the ride. Far be it from her to break it while she waited, no matter how long it lasted!

(To tell the truth, by the time they finally drew closer to the darkness out ahead, Jane had grown tired of Dirk’s cold shoulder. He really could be awfully stubborn when he wanted to, couldn’t he? Well, Jane thought, so could she, and shame on him if he thought he could out-stubborn _her_.)

~*~

It was a bit past noon when they finally came upon the Scratchlands, Maplehoof slowing to a walk. From what Jane had seen of it on maps, it was nothing but a dark scar upon what would otherwise be the border between two lovely plainscountries. To see it in person was much more. It was wilderness itself, monolithic and old and unwavering to the hands of men and trolls. Broken wagons and caravans became ubiquitous as they neared the tree line, and Jane could almost see the shadows themselves writhe at their approach. It seemed that nothing could tame the Scratchlands – nothing, that is, save for the very obvious path ahead of them. Someone had come recently and slashed away the brambles and brush, leaving terrible gashes on the trunks of trees in their wake. Jane felt a shiver run through her when she saw them, she knew what had the strength to make them. Judging by Dirk’s eerie stillness, he had seen them too, and he also knew.

Clearly, together they knew far too much, and yet so very little.

Even Maplehoof had some trepidation, but when Dirk urged her wordlessly to the mouth of the path, she obeyed. Immediately, the bright day darkened as the canopy shielded them from much of the light. It was so dense that they could probably shelter a rainstorm in here without even getting wet, if they had to.

In the Scratchlands, night always came early, but the darkness that rolled in was too fast and too deep to be natural. They couldn’t have gotten far when everything around them was nigh impossible to see, and the white of Maplehoof’s perfect coat was instead a deep and eye-searing navy.

“This can’t be your average, ordinary, everyday kind of darkness,” Dirk said aloud. Jane couldn’t tell if he was talking to her or himself. “It’s gotta be…”

“Advanced darkness?” Jane ventured. There was beat of silence, and Dirk snorted.

“Could be that,” He said, “Or, you know what it reminds me of? My cousin. The one that ran away, I told you that she studied Void? This looks a fucking awful lot like the stuff she used to pull up and jump into, just an endless abyss of nothingness. But I’m just bein’ sentimental. We’ve gotta move on regardless.”

 “Wouldn’t it be safer if we stopped, though?” Jane asked. “What if Maplehoof trips over something she can’t see in the dark?”

“Impossible. There’s jack shit to trip over.” Jane could feel her eyebrows shoot up at his words.

“Oh really? There aren’t any rebellious tree roots? Or steep drops, or large rocks? This place is supposed to be dangerous, I wouldn’t be surprised if it was easy to take a wrong step, especially when you can’t see where you’re going.”

He was tense under her touch again. Is this what he always did when he felt something strong enough? Did he always lock himself up like this to keep it from showing? That couldn’t be healthy. “Caliborn would’ve stomped it all flat, I’m sure,” He said.

“Uh-huh. And you haven’t been cross with me since we left everyone.”

“Who’s cross? I’m not cross. I don’t get cross.”

Jane huffed, and she pulled back from Dirk, squinting into the forest. “If you weren’t cross, you’d be a bit more rational, and you’d agree that pressing on would be reckless.”

He actually scoffed at that, and nudged his heels into his mare’s flank. She nickered, but sped up her pace. “Why hello Miss Pot, I’m Mr. Kettle, and if you call me black one more time I’ll have to direct you towards a mirror.”

Jane’s jaw dropped. “Oh, you did not just insinuate that I-”

“Oh,” He turned his head towards her, and Jane could just imagine the smirk on his face. “But I did.”

There was a sudden snap in the air in that moment, a crack that shot through Jane’s ears and made her wince – but her reaction was nothing compared to Maplehoof’s, whose neigh was high and loud as she took off down the path. Immediately, whatever grudge Dirk was harboring was sided, and he pulled Jane down against his back again.

“Maplehoof, STOP!” He tugged and tugged at the reins, but the mare raced on. She must have been able to see where she was going to some extent, for she leaned and turned with the bends in the path without falter. Jane clung to Dirk and squeezed her eyes shut. “God fucking damn it!” He _yanked_ , and the horse reared with another neigh. Jane screamed in terror and held tight enough for her to feel Dirk gasping for breath in her grasp, but she was slipping, she’d fall and get hurt, she couldn’t let go-

She felt an arm wrap around her shoulders as Maplehoof continued to tip, and with a grunt, Dirk pushed himself and Jane from the horse’s back. She heard the plop of dropping parcels before the sound of galloping hooves started again, and when Jane finally opened her eyes, she could just make out a mass disappearing down the path. The bags that had rested so easily on the horse’s back before were now spilled about them on the ground. Jane looked at them in a daze.

“What in the world?” She asked aloud. Dirk lay near her, his mouth set in pain. She expected him to speak, and she turned to him, squinting in the darkness. “What just happened? Did she…did you-?”

Something wiggled underneath her. “You’re on my fuckin’ arm,” Dirk said. “Off. Please get off.” Jane immediately rolled away; she felt her hip knock into something hard in the darkness. It must have struck a particularly sensitive nerve, for the pain she felt was a deep, digging flash; still, she only grimaced pressing a hand to her hip and strangling the cry in her throat.

“S-Sorry,” She managed to say, “I didn’t mean to-”

“No – no, it’s fine, I know,” Dirk said, rolling his shoulder and pressing on the joint. “It’s my own fault. I’m the one who pulled us off. Though if I hadn’t I think we’d have a lot more trouble to deal with.” Could he even see Jane in the darkness, behind those spectacles? She thought he had turned to her, but she could barely tell. “I don’t know if you’ve ever heard it, but there’s a story about a hero who travels on horseback across a strange land, and part of the way through he enters a place that takes such a dump on your mood that his horse literally dies of depression along the way. Doesn’t really surprise me that Maplehoof would be affected by the atmosphere either, no matter how much training she’s had.”

“So you’re saying her bolting was only a matter of time?”

“Not exactly. She probably could have endured the whole way through. She’s my horse, after all.” Dirk rose to his feet and made for the dropped parcels. “Whatever made that snap was the very last straw that broke her discipline. That I am one hundred percent sure of, and I am also hells of sure that while she booked it far enough that whatever it was can’t be that much of a threat to us now, that doesn’t mean the damn thing’s not on the move and won’t become a threat soon.”

Jane winced as she too came to her feet. “But the path is still too dark to see! How will we know where we’re going, or if whatever it was isn’t waiting for us already?”

A pack was thrust into her arms. “So you’d rather we sit on our asses and wait for something to attack from the darkness?” Dirk asked. His words were scathing and cold. “We have to be on the move, even if it’s risky. Everything about this place has risk written all over it in red neon letters, and that’s something we’re gonna have to deal with until we’re done here.”

“But there’s engaging in risk and there’s being foolish! Dirk, you must see that!” Jane slung the pack over her shoulder, and Dirk put something else in her arms. “Oomph – We can’t well search for the Lord and keep ourselves safe if we’re too tired, or if we can’t tell what’s going on around us!”

“I’m not even tired yet. Are you?” Dirk asked. Jane faltered.

“Er – no?” But how could he not be tired? He’d stayed up all of last night, hadn’t he?

“Then we keep going until we are.” He plucked the last parcel from the ground. “And if you’re so scared of falling down, then I’ll walk ahead. If you see me go down, then you know not to copy me, right?”

Jane did not realize that she was gritting and grinding her teeth until she moved them the wrong way, and the indescribable feeling of enamel and dentin scraping together made her shudder. “At the very least, could we make something to see with? Surely you must have brought something to make a fire-”

There were several clicks, and sparks began to jump out from the darkness. Jane yelped and watched with fascination as there was a hiss and a flare of flame. It had latched onto the end of a long, thick branch, and Dirk held it out before him, pocketing something. “Way ahead of you,” He said, and he turned the flame towards where Maplehoof had run. It barely illuminated their next step. Wasn’t that strange, Jane thought. This was the brightest thing for miles and miles, shouldn’t it let them see at least a bit more of their surroundings?

“Should we light another?” Jane asked. Dirk shook his head.

“Nah. It’s not gonna help.” He turned to face Jane; he was frowning, and his brow was furrowed. Never before had Jane seen him so concerned. “This is definitely Void darkness.”

“How…” Jane’s own brow furrowed. “How can you tell?”

He pointed to what little they could see. “The Void sucks up light,” He explained, “Its very nature is to obscure and hide things in nothingness. Whoever made this happen, and there IS someone behind it, they could make it so that this fire casts no light at all. The fact that we have this much is a grace.”

Jane took a step closer to him. The light was a beacon of safety, especially with the idea of a someone lurking about. “And why are you so sure there’s some sort of culprit?” Dirk must have been on edge, for he drew closer to Jane, taking her hand in his. It was probably to keep them together in such limited light, she knew that, but her heart still leapt in her chest.

“Because the Void doesn’t roll in on its own. It’s an Art, and it’s got rules.” He tugged Jane lightly and started down the path. “And Arts aren’t like free samples at the market, they’re not just handed out to any old schmuck. Only royalty and their court can learn them, and while I highly doubt my prodigal cousin has finally learned the error of her wayward ways and is attempting to reconnect with me, I also doubt that Zahhak decided to track us all this way. Dude doesn’t have a motive for it.”

At his words, Jane’s hand tightened around Dirk’s, and in that moment she was so, so glad she wasn’t alone. “But you think we’re being pursued,” She said, “And if they’re using the Void as cover, they could mean harm.”

Dirk shrugged. “Yeah, that’s the short of it.”

In this way they continued on through the darkness, quiet with their nerves aflutter, ears pricked for the sounds beyond the oppressive silence. It was obscene after the soft clop of hooves, for not even leaves crunched underneath their steps. Did the Void suck away sound, too? Was its conjuror only so kind as to allow them conversation? There was something missing to this situation, but Jane could barely grasp at its straws. Even the sharpest of wits could become clouded by paranoia, and she was certainly no exception. After all, what did the identity of someone pursuing you even matter when someone was _pursuing_ you?

Eventually, as the fear and the exertion settled in, exhaustion made its home in the two travelers, and yet Dirk would not stop. He plodded onward, and Jane had no choice but to follow him, for their grips on each other were strong, enough that their hands were aching from the effort of keeping them together. Jane tried to tug him to the side to rest, but he wouldn’t budge.

“Thought I saw something,” He mumbled, “Just ahead. I swear it’s just ahead.” His words were breathy and slurred, and Jane felt a pang of worry in her heart.

“Dirk, I really think you need to sleep,” She said. He shook his head firmly, and Jane frowned, digging her heels into the ground. It only served to make him pull harder. “Ah – _Dirk_! For heaven’s sake, you are a man possessed! You’ll run us both ragged at this point-”

In the blink of an eye, Dirk dropped down, and Jane with him, and both screamed as the world popped into view, the Void lifting to reveal color and light and a drop as high as the Royal Caravan was tall. They were sliding on their feet one moment and falling onto their elbows the next, clothes tearing, heads nearly getting clobbered by jutting rocks. Their torch wasn’t so fortunate, smashing against the rocks and smoldering out. When they finally came to a stop, Jane couldn’t bring herself to lift her gaze. She was absolutely shell-shocked, and could feel the scrapes and bruises pulsing with pain along with her heartbeat before they slowly fizzled away, Life creeping forward to mend her aches. She felt it travel up her arm, through her fingers and into Dirk, to grant him the same courtesy. He swore under his breath.

“Did you – did you not see the drop in front of you?” Jane asked, “I thought you said you could see one step ahead of you!”

Dirk shifted and slowly, slowly pulled his hand away, flexing his fingers with a little groan. They were red where Jane had held them. “The, uh…the area of the light,” He said, “It’d been shrinking. Didn’t want to freak you out, and didn’t really want to believe it, actually. So no, I didn’t see it.” He lifted his head from the gravel. There was a crack running through the right side of his spectacles, but his eyes must have been fine, for he gaped openly at their surroundings. “…Holy _shit_. Jane, are you seeing what I’m seeing?”

With a deep breath, Jane propped herself up and looked around. At first, she wasn’t sure what she was looking at. The forest they had entered, now much denser than before, had come to a halt at the edge of the drop they had tumbled from (and oddly enough, the created path they thought they were following was nowhere in sight). Above, the sky was orange and pink from the setting sun. They were at the foot of a great mountain, its peak small compared to those that flanked it. Their craggy and jagged tops could easily reach into the clouds, but this one was rounded, like someone had taken their hand and smoothed it over. Not too far from them, in the mountain itself, a great maw of a cavern stood open and waiting. It looked far too perfect to be natural, and it made the hair on the back of Jane’s neck prickle with apprehension.

“There’s something not right about this place,” She mused, and pulled herself to her feet. Dirk quickly followed suit.

“You’re damn right there’s not. As far as I know, there aren’t any mountains in the Scratchlands until you get to the chain that runs through the middle. But that’s three days worth of walking at least, and only if you go on straight through the night.” He brought a hand to the hilt of the sword at his hip, and Jane found herself fingering her trident. “There’s no doubt about it, we were walking in the Void…and potentially into a trap. Someone wanted us to come here and overshoot Caliborn.”

“You don’t think he could get this far yet?” Jane asked. He shook his head.

“Dude’s fast and strong, but even he’d need some time to get here,” Dirk said. “And he doesn’t know a thing about the Void. Nah, if it was him fucking with us, we’d know.”

It still wasn’t adding up to Jane. If there were only two people who knew how to use Void, and they couldn’t be the suspects, then who was doing this? And why had they brought them all this way, and how? Could they transcend time and space in the Void? Had they unwittingly fallen into some deadly trap?

“It might be clearer to us if we get some rest,” Jane said. She could feel Dirk’s glare from behind his spectacles, but instead of heeding it, she frowned and hooked her arm into his. “Don’t you give me that look, buster, I’ve had it to the moon with you!” Dirk tugged back, but he must have been more tired than either of them thought, for his attempts to free himself were weak at best. “I don’t want to hear about danger and traps anymore, especially if you’re in this state! How can we defend ourselves from a threat if one of isn’t up to snuff?” Jane led him towards the cavern, for while it was terribly suspicious, it was the best shelter for miles around. At its entrance, she let go of Dirk and started to pull the packs off his back.

“Hey-”

“Hay is for horses, Your Majesty,” Jane said briskly. When Dirk was unburdened, she shed her own packs. “If you aren’t too dead on your feet, it might be a good idea to make camp, don’t you think? I’ve never done this sort of thing before, but I’m certain that’d be the smartest move. I’ll go clamor up the drop and see if I can bring us some firewood.”

As she turned to leave, Dirk cleared his throat. “Awfully pushy for a Lady in Waiting, ain’t ya?”

“Awfully foolish for a Prince, aren’t you?” Jane shot back. Not once did she stop to look back at him.

“Okay, so maybe I have my dumb moments,” He shouted, “But you never stop being stubborn-”

“You are just as stubborn as I am!”

“Yeah, that’s a federal issue right there! I should have you arrested for that! Do you know how hard it is to deal with a friend who’s just as convinced that they’re right as you are? When in fact they’re lucky to pull through in the first place?”

She had reached the foot of the drop, and carefully began to climb. It didn’t occur to her how hard it might be to get back down without injuring herself, but there were no trees between the drop and the mountains. There was nowhere else to get firewood. “Boy howdy, do I ever!”

“Wow. Wow! Rude as hell, Jane, rude as hell!”

Was he even making camp like she asked? It would be the funniest thing if he was. Jane stuck right by the tree line as she filled her arms with fallen wood. “I also know what it’s like to be friends with someone who keeps secrets and talks in circles, but you don’t hear me complaining!” She paused to pick up a particularly large piece of wood. “I think I’ve been more than patient concerning the matter of your puppet friend, don’t you? I don’t-” I don’t hide a thing from you, Jane nearly said, but that wasn’t quite true, was it? Her pendant shifted against her chest, its existence all the proof she needed.

It took a minute for Jane to realize that Dirk had not shouted up a response to her words. In fact – by shouting, weren’t they essentially painting targets on themselves, for predators and the origin of the Void alike? It wasn’t like him not to snap up a comment.

Jane turned, and out of the corner of her eye, she caught sight of a dark figure slipping into the mouth of the cavern. The wood in her arms fell with a clatter to the ground, and she was barreling down the drop, gravel flying, feet nearly tripping over themselves. It was a miracle she didn’t end up tumbling down again, and when she hit level ground Jane didn’t stop. Shit, she thought, shit shit shit shit _shit_! She wasn’t one for cursing, but now it was the chorus in her mind, because this was what happened when she dropped her guard, when she was wrong, when she didn’t know what to expect in the mouth of that dark cavern. She drew her trident and launched herself inside-

-And was promptly caught round the middle by a pair of warm, lithe arms, and pushed backwards, trident flying from her grasp. She hit the ground with a thud and a groan, barely registering the body that was on top of hers, or the head that had tucked itself underneath her bosom.

“Oooomigosh!” Crooned a voice, “I cannot effin’ believe it! We gotta be the luckiest girls on the face of the earth to run into you two!!” The head lifted, and Jane, in her daze, caught sight of a head of platinum hair and two gemlike eyes, as pink as Rhondocrosite and beginning to water. “I thought I’d never ever ever ever see you again, Janey!”

Only one girl had ever had eyes like that, and only one girl had ever called her Janey. She felt her breath stick in her throat.

“R…Roxy?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, we're getting to some of the most exciting stuff! And if you think this chapter hits you where it hurts, just wait for the next one!
> 
> I might take a little break to get back into the swing of original fiction, and I don't know how long that break will be, but please don't be sad because there's no way I'd abandon the story now! Not when there's still so much to reveal!


	16. Deceit

She had grown up, dear Roxy, into someone Jane could barely recognize, into a young woman willowy and expressive, with a mouth perhaps a bit too wide for her face. Why, if it weren’t for her eyes, Jane wouldn’t have known her at all. She was still in a daze of disbelief as Roxy led her back to the cave, and it took her a moment to comprehend the scene inside. There, Dirk lay prostrate on the floor, his glare utterly spent as it moved between Roxy and-

And another. There was another person in the cave, curled up on Dirk’s chest in a long, ratty coat and a funny blue hat, two troll horns sitting atop their head like a perked cat’s ears.“Purrpeta!” Roxy cried, and she rushed over, leaving Jane at the mouth of the cave. “Get up, girl, he can’t breathe like that!” The figure squeaked and rolled off of Dirk, and he coughed and sputtered, his chest heaving. “Is that how you say hello to people you haven’t seen in forever? You _pounce_?”

The troll, for it was a troll as much as it was a girl, crouched on her haunches and looked at Roxy beseechingly. “Of course I pounce!” She said, “To not would be a grrreat dishonor to my status as a huntress!” Something behind her moved, like the lazy spasms of a cat’s tail. “You did it too, I saw it! Why is it only bad when I do it?”

Roxy laughed sheepishly, her eyes crinkling at the corners. “Aah, you got me good, Nepeta,” She said, “But the difference is that I didn’t park my sweet patootie on Janey when I did it!” By her side, Jane’s jaw dropped. Had she said Nepeta – could it be _that_ Nepeta? The one that went rogue from Derse so long ago? Whoever she was, she rolled her shoulders and batted at her ear.

“Whate _fur_ ,” Nepeta drawled, and a smooth as silk she reached over and pulled at Dirk so he sat up. His face was stuck in that exhausted glower. “You can’t blame me for my enthusiasm! He may be a total sourpuss, but Dirk is my furrend and I haven’t seen him in furever!”

Three fur puns. That was three fur puns in less than a minute, and Jane cradled her head in her hand. There was no doubt in her mind now – this _was_ that Nepeta. Only the Dersite nobility could be so quirkily ridiculous.

“‘Furever’ is a goddamn understatement,” Dirk said, his voice strained and quiet, and he turned to Roxy. “For the _both_ of you. So explain, and make it quick, or so fucking help me-”

Roxy gasped. “Dirky Doo!” She exclaimed, and she came to his side and dropped to her knees, gathering Dirk up in her arms. “Is this any way to treat a long-lost family member? Nuh-uh, I don’t think so! What do you think, Janey, should I noogie him until he remembers his place?”

Jane blinked once, twice. “Long lost family? You don’t mean…”

“Roxy’s that cousin of mine, the one that ran off,” Dirk said. He struggled in Roxy’s hold. “Nice to know you never grew out of strangling your victims, Ro-lal. Spare me this time?” She laughed, and only held him tighter.

“Never ever! Nep, get in on the hug, this cool kid is in need of hugs, stat – and don’t think I’ve forgotten about you too, Janey! Dude needs all the lovin’ he can get, and three smokin’ ladies are better than two!”

Nepeta heeded the command happily, but Jane did not budge. She stared at the three in open disbelief, and she wanted to cry, wanted to scream. How did any of this make sense? It couldn’t be true – her best friend, the girl that popped out of nothing and popped into nothing so easily, the little darling who had charmed the Madame’s heart and spent all those idyllic days in Crocker Hall with Jane and Jake, how could this be true? How could she have ever been the elder Duchess of Lalonde? There was no way this could be, Jane thought, for she was just…Roxy! Just Roxy! Beautiful and funny Roxy, who could not be found on the day the Lord took Jane and Jake away, who most certainly would never leave the Madame’s side no matter what. And in tow with her was this Nepeta of all people! This was who they really were? This was them before her?

Something hot and wet prickled in Jane’s eyes. “I don’t understand,” she said. The words choked her. “I don’t…Roxy, I…”

There was a sharp breath, and the sound of footsteps before those thin, warm arms wrapped around Jane once more, gentler this time. “Oh, my poor Janey,” Roxy crooned as she led her to Nepeta and Dirk, “There ain’t nothin’ you’ve gotta worry your pretty little head about! Mama Lalonde is gonna make yours and Dirky’s cares zip away! Now come on,” She said, and helped lower Jane to her knees, “Group hug time! We’re gonna forget our troubles and hug, what do you say?”

Jane couldn’t say anything, but she felt Roxy on one side and Nepeta on the other, and four heads pressed together in closeness. Even in the dim cave and through tears and tinted glass, Jane could see a spark of something in the eyes of the Prince of Derse. They shared the same thought – something was amiss. They only needed time to pinpoint what.

~*~

When Roxy said she would make their troubles go away, she must have meant it, though she had only followed through on physical troubles. She and Nepeta lost no time in making the camp that Dirk had barely managed to start, and a fire was cracking at the mouth, from which they could see the rapidly darkening Scratchlands and sky. From the pockets of her dark blue tunic Roxy pulled more food than Jane thought possible, and insisted that everyone work to prepare a meal.

“Hammer space,” She said to Jane when she observed her curious look. “You would _flip_ if you knew how much shit I keep in there. You just slip a little Void into your pockets, and wham! And if you think this is impressive-” She gestured to her chest. “You should see what I keep with the girls! I can fit a rifle in there, Janey. A whole. Friggen. _Rifle_.” She tugged at the collar of her tunic and smirked. “Wanna see?”

Jane leaned away. “Um…that’s…nice? And…no, I, I think I’ll take your word for it, that was quite a long string of sausages you took from your pockets!” She let out a nervous laugh and turned back to the preparations. “And the bread rolls, and the knife, and the jar of tomato paste! I can only, erm, imagine what else you could store in your pockets alone!!!”

As they prepped and waited and ate their supper, their chatting continued. Roxy stuck particularly close to Jane, whispering frivolous inanities in her ear, and as stumped as Jane still was by it all, she found herself laughing honestly. It felt so strange, and yet so wonderful, just to be in Roxy’s presence again. They had always done things like this when they were young, always together, always telling each other silly secret things no matter who was near. Never, Jane noticed, did her topics stray to times of the past, nor to those they shared it with, and now that she thought about it, Roxy had never spoken to Jane of her past, not even when she had asked her so many, many times. Where did you come from? Where was your family? This and more the young Duchess had deflected with a bright, bright grin. At least now Jane had a notion as to why.

Dirk, on the other hand, was completely unflappable. He performed all tasks in silence, ate in silence, all while this Nepeta rubbed their shoulders together and asked after him and the other Dersite Nobility – though, (and this was another thing Jane noticed, for she was not entirely convinced that this was some happy coincidence), not once did she mention Equius, who Jane remembered having a particular fondness for her. What was it called again? A moirallegiance? If it was a form of romance for trolls, then why would Nepeta not address it to Dirk, who knew more news of Equius than she? Unless there was some subtlety Jane did not grasp, she could not understand how someone could not ask after a loved one when they got the chance.

It was when they were finished with their meal, the sun long set and the forests’ darkness fully encroached, that the scene shifted. Roxy brushed her hands together and looked between Jane and Dirk, the playful air dissipating. In the crackling light, she looked more like Rose than ever.

“I think,” She said, “I’ve left my buddies hanging for long enough. Don’t they look ready to burst, Nepeta?” Dirk groaned before the troll could answer, dropping his face into his hands.

“Are you trying to be coy about this shit? Roxy, I don’t have the patience, just lay it out straight for me!” His index fingers slipped under his spectacles to rub at his eyes. “Do I really look ready to burst? What an astute fucking observation! Here’s one for you,” He said, gesturing to Roxy and Nepeta. “In front of me I see two nobles! One of which went rogue at eight years old! The age where you know exactly what’s best for yourself!”

 Roxy’s face fell. “Dirk-”

“No, don’t you stop me, don’t you fucking dare, the dam is broke and now everything’s a torrential flooding!” There was a snarl to Dirk’s voice, a sharpness to his anger that Jane had never seen before. He must have absolutely had it, simmering and simmering in his frustration all this time, a quake in his limbs barely quelled. There was a mounting terror to it. “But back to the goddamn point, Rox, you defected and disappeared and now you think waltzing back into my life at the most random time is okay? That I’m going to drop to my knees and hug you until the sunrise, and that this is some big fluffy family reunion? Why not wait until Rose and Dave are here, huh? Get all that good familial feeling going? And this one!” He turned sharply to Nepeta, who jerked from her place on his shoulder, her eyes widening and wibbling in the face of his tirade. “This one is pretending she didn’t cause a skirmish and get captured by our sworn enemies at the expense of another troll, and at the expense of her moirail’s fucking dignity!”

Olive welled at Nepeta’s eyes, and she took a deep, huffing breath and hid her face in her sleeves. “Too purrsnickety, Dirk!” She said, her voice strained and small. “You are far, far too purrsnickety!”

“Well what do you want from me?” Dirk yelled. All three girls flinched, and he threw his hands up in the air. “What did you _expect_?! Hugs and rainbows and fluffy kittens and shit? This is serious and you haven’t explained yourselves yet!!!”

That much, Jane thought, was evident, but Nepeta’s smothered little wails and Roxy’s crestfallen face were far too much. She took a breath and steeled herself, curling her hands into fists in her lap. “Dirk.”

His shoulders stiffened, and he did not turn to look Jane in the eye. “What.”

“You’re being too harsh on them.”

“Like hell I am-”

“Let me _speak_ ,” Jane urged. Her eyes narrowed, and she leaned just the slightest bit forward, not quite in the face of the fire. “I agree with you on the grounds that this is all too confusing. Why would Roxy and Nepeta appear now, in all places, to us? I want to know this just as badly as you, and I don’t blame you for being angry, but shaming them won’t provide us with answers!” Though Dirk began to slack at her words, Jane did not stop. “Despite how clearly their actions have hurt you, don’t you think you ought to be gentle and hear them out? Or would you rather even the closest of your subjects fear you?”

There was a long time where the three Dersites stared at Jane; Roxy with her mouth hung open and life returning to her eyes, Nepeta with olive tears still threatening to spill, Dirk stubbornly hanging onto the last vestiges of his fury and failing miserably. His shoulders slumped, and he moved to rub at his eyes again.

“Stop being so lucky, Jane,” He said shakily, and she leaned back and smiled. It was enough of a victory for her.

“Lucky or not, the question still hangs before us,” Jane said, and she looked between her fellow ladies. “What are the two of you doing here – oh!”

Roxy had leaned over and slung an arm around Jane, pulling her head to Roxy’s chest. She half wondered if the claim of a pocket of Void between her bosoms was true, and if she’d be pulled into it by accident. “Holy shit, Janey, that was badass! I never ever imagined you had something like that in you!” She hummed and nuzzled her face into Jane’s hair. “I gotta do what such a badass lady tells me, right? Wouldn’t be fair to leave her hanging, would it?”

“Ooh, no, it wouldn’t,” Nepeta said. She sniffled and wiped the last of the tears from her face, her expression still tender. “There isn’t much to it, though. We’ve been looking for Jane.”

Dirk looked at the girls for a long, long time. His brows drew together, and his mouth formed into a half-open grimace.

“What?” He and Jane asked, a comedic moment of tandem.

“Oh gosh, oh gosh, lemme explain it,” Roxy said, and she released Jane and rose to her feet. “We met up in Prospit, right? Kind of totally on accident. Aaaand…” She went to Nepeta and scratched her behind the horns. Nepeta closed her eyes and mewled. “We decided to be badass and help people! Like Robin Hood! Only there’s two of us and we’re both smokin’ hot babes.”

“And one of the people we’re helping out is Jane’s mommy,” Nepeta said. The words rolled off her tongue like raindrops off a leaf, though to Jane, they sounded far too practiced. Besides, she had never known who her mother was, though she tried not to make a face. If these two were lying, there had to be a reason for it. “She’s been looking for her baby furever and we have been recruited to bring her back!”

“You’d love her mom, Dirk,” Roxy said, “She is _also_ a smokin’ hot babe!”

Dirk had gone rigid again, though not nearly as severely as before. “As much of a shock as this may be to you, Rox, I’m more of a man’s man. I know it breaks your heart, but you’ll have to bug Dave if you ever want to be an auntie.”

“Oh, hon, I could tell,” Roxy said, her grin sly and her eyes hooded. Dirk leaned back.

“Stop. I don’t like that face you’re making. Cut it out.”

“Never!” Roxy pumped a fist in the air and gracelessly plopped down next to Dirk, drawing him into a hug. His only resistance was a continued stiffness. “But any _way_! We heard from our amazing roguish intel that if we ran into the Scratchlands, we’d find her! But we didn’t think we’d find you, too, which is like, a total plus!” She pinched one of his cheeks. “Do you know how tough it is to shroud somebody in the Void for a whole day? I thought I was gonna faint!”

“So it was you who did that to us!” Jane exclaimed. Roxy nodded, her face brightening.

“It messes with your sense of direction and time like nobody’s business!” She said with a triumphant air. “Took me ages to figure it out all on my lonesome, so it doesn’t bother me, but it’s a doozy for everyone else, isn’t it?”

“So that was your plan all along,” Dirk said, pulling his face from Roxy’s grasp. “You wanted to get Jane lost, then swoop in like some magical saviors and whisk her away? Your intel didn’t have a clue what she might be up to in here, did they?”

“Nope, none!” She perched her chin on Dirk’s shoulder. “Care to fill me in, cuz?”

Dirk sighed and shrugged, but Roxy kept her head firmly in place. “We’re looking for Lord Caliborn. He left us a message to come and talk to him privately in here after overturning his caravan. It’s weird as hell, but it’s what we’ve gotta do. We’re on a war march, and we really don’t have time for your shenanigans – fuck, we don’t even have time for his shenanigans, but we have to put up with them.”

Roxy pulled away from Dirk. Her mouth had dropped open, and the spark of amusement had disappeared from her eyes. “War march?” She asked, “What’re you going to war for, and with who?”

He scoffed. “Prospit of course, who else?” Dirk scooted away from Roxy and crossed his arms. “Our own intel said that their princess is hiding out in our lands, no doubt waiting for her opportunity to try and take us down. You know I won’t stand for that. Their impudence has gone way too fucking far.”

Roxy did not seem distressed by Dirk’s words, and it was good that his focus was affixed on her, for Nepeta pressed her hands to her mouth, her eyes widening to the roundness of tea saucers and flickering to Jane. Just that flicker made Jane’s stomach drop, and the pendant warmed against her skin. Could…could Nepeta know that she was-

In that moment, everything clicked. Jane had no mother, it was true, but hadn’t Rose referred to the Madame as the mother of the Prospitian Court? Could the Madame be looking for her? Looking for her, and after all this time! Something tightened in her chest. Roxy had started talking again, fielding Dirk’s questions, smoothing over where she’d gone and how she knew Jane like the icing on a cake, but she couldn’t hear any of it. Quietly, Nepeta scooted next to her and laid her head on Jane’s shoulder.

“Something wrong, Your Grace?” She said, words more mouthed than spoken. A lump formed in Jane’s throat.

“I…”

“Calliope really, really needs you,” She continued, “Fur real! I didn’t know there was a war, but I think, I _think_ that she did, and that efuryone would need you! She wants you to come home.”

Home. The word echoed in Jane’s mind, and her pendant burned hot. It didn’t make sense to her, that word. What was home, where was home? Was it Crocker Hall, lonely in the north? Was it the cellar in Derse’s House of Lords, cold and sad? Was it her bed in the caravan’s loft, where she never had enough blankets? Because there was no way it could be Prospit itself. It never felt like her home or her birthright, more like a far away golden dream, more like a promise that she pretended was coming, always coming, though she never expected it, and if she never expected it then she would never be sad that it never came. Could she really go back? Could she really meet that brother of hers for the first time, and her other cousin, Jake’s-

“B-But what about Jake?” Jane asked. Her voice was still quiet, but Dirk keyed into the name quickly, his focus shifting for the briefest of moments. If Roxy was the icing, that shift was the cherry on top of Jane’s confusion, more bitter than sweet. Nepeta wiggled her fingers at him until she was sure he’d looked away.

“He’ll be coming with the armies, right?” Nepeta continued, her voice louder this time, “When the fighting is over, he can stay too! Your Mommy has lots of room in her house!”

Now her head was filled with pressure. Chest, throat, head, all uncomfortable, all making the simple act of thinking difficult. “But he needs help-”

“He will get help,” Nepeta said. Her voice held a confidence and urgency that was sweet as syrup. “He will be okay! Our intel has said so. You’ll meet her, too, if you come with us!”

There was a gasp from Roxy. “Oh my gosh, Nepeta, are you tryin’ to get Janey to join us in our life of debauchery? For _shame_!” She giggled and launched herself at the troll, hugging her tightly and with wild abandon.

~*~

Dirk seemed unsatisfied with his answers, but in the end, his exhaustion overtook him, and he retired soon after the exchange, his forehead still so very wrinkled. Roxy watched him as he left, and when they could hear his soft, deep snores, she laid a hand on Jane’s shoulder. “So,” She began, all playful pretense gone from her tone, “You did manage to pick up what we were layin’ down, weren’t ya? You’re so _clever_ , Janey, don’t tell me I gotta spell it out.”

“Uh…no, that won’t be necessary,” Jane said, and she nodded, perhaps to assure herself. “I think I understand. But it’s so strange. Why does the Madame want me to come now? For the war?”

“Probs, Janey. Probs. But also ‘cause she misses you!” Roxy grinned. “And for whatever magicks-y reasons she might have. I’m sure she’ll tell you! She doesn’t hide anything from anybody, she’s just absolutely, positively perfect!”

Nepeta cozied up to Jane again; she thought she felt the brush of that blue tail on her back. “You mean _paw_ sitively _purr_ fect,” She corrected, “And yes, yes, I agree! She makes efurything happy! I couldn’t believe it until I felt it myself!”

“We’ve been living with her in the palace,” Roxy added, “With her and with your little bro and your cutie cousin and the cooliest trolls!” She leaned in, her grin widening. “And who knows who else you’ll get to add to our big ol’ family! Hm? Hmmm?” Roxy’s eyebrows waggled. “Don’t think I didn’t see you work your charm on that grumpy excuse for a Prince!”

It had been strange to talk of going to Prospit, though Roxy and Nepeta made it sound so fun, they really did. But at mention of Dirk, Jane had to pull away. Her expression fell. “Are you implying that I’m trying to seduce him?” She shook her head, though her heart began to pound. “No…no! That’s not why I’m here at all! I’ve been on the war march under your sister’s good graces, Roxy, because Jake is in peril! He doesn’t remember who he rightly is, or who I am to him, and I don’t know who in Derse can help me!”

Roxy and Nepeta looked at each other, considering her words. “If it’s a remembering purroblem,” Nepeta said, “Then it’s got to do with his mind, right?”

“And if it’s got to do with his mind,” Roxy said, “Then you really are better off coming with us.”

“Is this more about this mysterious intel of yours?” Jane asked. “What makes them so great? Don’t tell me, they know some Art that can fix what’s been done to his head?”

“Exactly!” The rogues said in unison. Jane blinked.

“What do you mean, ‘exactly’? There’s no way it can be exact!”

A hand from both girls fell on either of Jane’s shoulders. “There’s the Art of Mind, Janey,” Roxy said, “And our intel is very, very skilled with it. You could say when it comes to head cases, she is simply the best there is.”

“She’s Purrospit’s Seer!” Nepeta said, “And she is fun and awesome and super swell and will know a way to help Jake fur sure! We’ll just round him up while efuryone is fighting and she’ll fix him! And then you won’t have to worry!”

She made it sound like it was nothing at all, Jane thought, and she heaved a sigh. If only she could find it in herself to be so optimistic. “I really don’t think it would be that easy,” She said, “But do you promise the Seer could help Jake?”

Roxy traced an ‘x’ over her heart. “I ensure it,” She said, “Rosie got you this far in one piece, let the next Lalonde take you to the end! So come on! What do you say?”

Jane looked at Roxy. She looked at Nepeta. Though she did not turn, she knew Dirk lay a ways behind her. There was still so much he never told her. Still so much he expected of her, and so little he suspected.

“You do have a responsibility, Your Grace,” Nepeta said. Her gaze had turned downward, and she pulled back to fiddle with her fingers in her lap. “I know we are not the best example of living up to those responsibilities! Believe me, I really do. But whatefur you’ve got to do in Derse doesn’t matter! They don’t need you like Purrospit needs you!”

What she said was true. Even with her doubts, even through the confusion, this rang clear through Jane, something that had always been right long before she had taken her first breath. Prospit was to her what Derse was to Dirk. It was part of her very being, and if she was the last to stand, she would be the grand swan song of her people, no matter how little she knew of them. This very truth seemed to bloom within her, rooted in the ground of the mountain cave.

“Just…” Jane’s head drooped. “Just let me sleep on it, okay? Please.”

Roxy nodded, and clapped her on the shoulder before pulling away. “Go snuggle with your future man,” She said softly, “We’ll wake you before he gets up to hear you out. We’ve got a contact on the other side of the mountain who’ll bring you home as quick as a flash, though. No muss, no fuss.”

What could she do but heed the words of her friend? Jane nodded, and left the rogues to converse in hushed tones by the fire, plopping down where she remembered some bed rolls being laid. There was a familiar warm lump next to her, barely discernible in the dim light. It shifted.

“Jane?” Said a voice. It was Dirk’s, so pitifully heavy with exhaustion. He had never sounded like that before, not after training, not at the end of a day’s march. Jane could not turn her face towards him.

“Yes, I’m here,” She said. There was a rustling beside her.

“What’d they want?” He asked. Jane heaved a sigh and pulled her knees to her chest.

“They’re absolutely convinced that I have to go with them,” She said. Her cheek rested on a knee, and her gaze looked out at a point in the dark depths of their shelter. “My…mother, she’s very insistent, and they said there’s someone in Prospit that can help Jake.”

“Mm. Maybe.”

“Would you allow him leave to get help when your armies arrive?”

Another shift. He really could never stay still, not even when sleepy. “Granted I don’t steamroll their house, I guess I’d be cool with that. You’d bring him back?”

There was a softness to Dirk’s voice at that, and he reminded Jane of a little boy who hadn’t quite realized he was lost yet. It was another sting to her heart, but she smiled nonetheless. “In time for supper.”

“That’s an open invitation for you, too,” Dirk said. He coughed. “You know, if you decide to light off with the girls. We’ll make that crappy march stew and relive the glory days of trudging around in the mud.”

“Hoo hoo! And listening to Dave rattle off rambles?”

“Only the rambles that rattle the most.” The pair chuckled quietly for a moment, enjoying their shared imaginings, before Dirk spoke again. “You’re…are you thinking of going with them?”

Jane looked down at Dirk. There was little light, but she could still tell that his spectacles were off, and that his gaze was riveted on her, less its usual hawklike strength, possibly imploring. Maybe imploring. She couldn’t tell, all she could see was the shine of the fire on them.

“…I don’t know. They strike a hard bargain.”

There was a tug on her sleeve, and Jane let her hand drop. Dirk took it into his own. Both of them had such calloused hands, one from hard work and the other from hard discipline. His were cold, and so much bigger than hers.

“Would it help you decide if I asked you to stay?” He paused, and shifted something in his arms. Jane thought she saw the small form of Lil’ Cal there, and she worried her bottom lip. She hadn’t realized he’d brought it with him. “Not ordered. Not decreed. Asked. I…I’m really sick of people I care about disappearing. You know? Especially when they show up out of the blue and pretend everything is hunky-fuckin’-dory.” He squeezed her hand tight. “You’re not a flake like that. You’re the best goddamn friend I’ve ever had, Jane. It ain’t selfish for a guy to want to keep that around, is it?”

The lump in Jane’s throat rose anew. “Dirk-”

“Not when everything else could slip right through his fingers,” He continued, “When his little bro could get swept up in the halls of Time, strung along by who knows what Caliborn could do. When his cousins could slip into the Void or dissolve into the Light without caring who’ll miss them, when his one shot at Hope could have his wings cut, there’s always one undeniable Truth. There’s always Life. Right?”

Those words were more than a sting to Jane’s heart. They were a knife, they were a hook that latched onto her breath and reeled it out of her. She gasped when she felt her heart skip, her nerves fizzling. It could be very possible, Jane managed to think, that Dirk was afraid of being alone. He said it like it was a poem, but it rang true. He was frightened that all he held close to him would shatter and vanish, and he counted on her friendship, believed in it, trusted in her to be true-

 It was at that moment where Jane knew, she knew that she could not stay with Dirk. She knew he was not the type to so easily put his faith in others. His family and friends had deserted him two times too many for him to trust, even in those he so desperately wanted to keep from harm. So to trust Jane, of all people, whom he held close, whom he did not know was the target of all of his aspirations of war, made her hate herself so thoroughly. She could not go on this way. She could not, in good conscience, call herself the friend of the Prince of Derse, and that broke her heart. He clearly needed someone to trust, had pinned so many hopes on people he barely knew…and if she did not come clean with him, she could never hope to be that, or anything beyond. It was as if the stories of the prince in his amethyst tower had come crashing and crumbling down.

And it was in the next moment, as Dirk’s eyes fluttered closed, as he fell into an uneasy but much-needed sleep, that Jane knew exactly what she had to do.

~*~

Dirk did not remember what he had said to Jane when he woke the next morning. If he did, he would have been completely embarrassed, and denied it even when he was alone with himself. Exhaustion was tricky in that way, duping the mind and dulling the senses.

All he knew was that the camp was completely empty save for himself and Lil’ Cal, the fire at the entrance smoldered, a parcel left nearby his bedroll. He chalked Roxy and Nepeta up to a fever dream, and assumed Jane had risen to use the bathroom, so after rubbing his eyes and yawning, he examined the parcel with groggy interest. Inside, he found a bit of food, as well as a detailed map of the Scratchlands and a sealed envelope. It bulged with something hard inside. It was addressed to him. Inside, the hard thing had been covered with a note, and he pulled that out first, unfurling it and making quick work of the contents. The words were wobbly, and there were many scratched out parts, as if it had been difficult to write, but this was what he could make out:

**Dirk,**

**If you are reading this, it means that I’ve already been gone for quite some time. I’ve been told that I’ll be far, far away from you in the blink of an eye, so please don’t worry, I won’t be lost in the Scratchlands. I promise.**

**I am sorry. I am so, so sorry.**

**I don’t think I can say that enough.**

**I can’t presume to know the depths of the troubles of Derse. I can’t presume to know you like the back of my own hand. But, I think I can presume that I will no longer be welcome by you. That I can understand. I couldn’t continue to deceive you, it wasn’t right, especially since I’ve come to-**

**No. There’s no point in saying it. It would only make things worse.**

**I will always think of you as my dearest friend, no matter what may happen. I swear, somehow, someway, I will help you. But I cannot do it as a liar.**

**I am so sorry.**

-          **Jane**

“Hah.” Dirk crumpled the letter in his hands. “Very funny, Jane. Come on, you gave me a scare, show’s over-”

The hard thing in the envelope warmed, spontaneously and not from his touch. Dirk glanced down. From the first rays of sunrise managing to work their way through the dense Scratchlands, he thought he saw a golden glimmer. Slowly, he reached his hand inside…

…And pulled out a small pendant. It was made of amber, a lovely letter ‘P’ carved inside, and surrounded by curls of gold. A chain hung down from its top, still warm from when it hung ‘round a Princess’s neck. From when it hung around Jane’s neck.

Dirk’s blood ran cold.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...Well? Are you ready for the next phase of the story? Think of everything until the end of this chapter as the questions portion of a mystery murder game, and the next portion, while containing some Very Big Questions, will also have...Most Of The Answers. I can't really say it'll have all of them. But it'll have the important ones.
> 
> I am so psyched to get this far in the story! I never thought it would, but really, it's all because you guys as readers support me! You send me nice comments and get excited, and it makes me feel great to know I'm giving you something you enjoy! So please continue to enjoy Of Royal Forge! We're nowhere near done yet!


	17. Calm

Hours before Dirk awoke, Jane rose, her chest light and cool without her hidden pendant, and followed Roxy and Nepeta into the innards of the mountain cave, the parcel left beside the sleeping Prince. She could not bring herself to look back.

They used no light, these Dersite rogues, for Roxy knew the Void like an old lover, and the darkness was nearly its twin. They went down, down, down into the depths of the mountain, hand in hand, the blind led by the blind led by the only one who could see. Their only marker of distance was the steepness of the cavern, still headed down, never turning, never branching. How far could it go, Jane wondered, could it really reach the other side of the mountain?

After what felt like ages and ages of walking, the cavern began to level off, and all three girls felt the tension ease from their bodies. It was a strain to keep your steps steady in the face of steepness, and their aching calves were grateful for the rest. Their noses, however, crinkled in the face of something new. The deeper they traveled, the mustier the air became, and at first they had hardly noticed, but now the scent in the air was strong and palatable, pungent and sticky. It was at once a strange and yet familiar smell – there was the dank coolness of earth after a summer rain, and a bitter note like the chill of winter, but joining them was the scent of sweat and skin and char, something intimate and musky that Jane could not quite place. Something warm sparked in her body, like Life dancing across a wound, and the deeper they traveled, the more her head swam because of it.

Roxy, at the head of their party, suddenly stopped short when the ground leveled out again, and her soft gasp echoed around them. “Holy _shit_! Nepeta, grab my tunic, you two should see this-” There was a flash, and a flare, and soon Roxy held aloft a burning torch, its light dispelling the darkness, and Jane blinked rapidly to accustom herself.

The cavern had opened up into a large, round room, the walls roughly hewn and streaked with burn marks. On the other side laid another cavern, its tunnel sloping up. In the very center was a shallow pit, no more than two feet deep, and spread out in a ring were twenty slabs, eight around the pit and twelve around the eight. Jane’s vision blurred, but her knees did not buckle, and she squeezed Nepeta’s hand as tightly as she could, the touch her only anchor.

“What _is_ this place?” Nepeta asked, looking about in wonder. Roxy shook her head.

“I’m not sure. Callie just said we’d hit a room once we got halfway through the mountain, and that we shouldn’t stick around.” Roxy tugged the others along. “I can see why. This place is total creepsville.”

Though she wanted to agree, Jane couldn’t speak. Her mouth and throat had dried, and with every blink of the eye she saw something different. In one moment the slabs were glittering amethyst and an amber that appeared blood red in the torchlight. In another, there were bodies – dozens of bodies, bloodied and bruised and swollen with disease, their faces unclear, first alone on their slabs and then mounting – and in another there was nothing but fire, and in yet another all she saw were two looming silhouettes in the shallow pit. As they neared the center, Jane closed her eyes, shutting herself away from the images, from the world. She could feel Life sparking at her fingertips, rising in her throat like vomit and churning like the sea.

“Woo!” Roxy said, her call echoing through the room, “But man does it _stink_ in here! Let’s skidaddle, ladies!”

Jane considered it a miracle that she made it through that room without collapsing. As soon as she stepped into the other tunnel, the dizziness lifted, and the tingle of Life slowly began to fade. She could breathe again, and she hoped with all she had that she would never have to descend into that room again.

Ascending, however, was much more demanding than descending. If there were stairs here, for example, travelling down would just be a series of short, controlled drops, unless a mishap were to occur, in which case, warning of the peril of travelling down stairs would be warranted. Ascending was more physical exertion, working against the natural gravity of down in favor of its opposite. Those calves that were once thankful of level ground now ached for it again as they continued. At least with Roxy’s torch there was light, but there was little to see. Nothing, it seemed, dared make a home in this cave, nor dared to defile it, save for the burn marks of the chamber before.

In time, the light of the western sky shone ahead. With a holler, Roxy extinguished her torch and pulled her friends along, and they hurried with her, their strength renewed at the prospect of the sun. When they emerged, the light did not hurt Jane’s eyes, and she marveled at how even the Scratchlands seemed more cheerful on this side, less dark and dangerous, with a gentle incline instead of a dangerous drop ahead.

It was as she looked out on this land, for a moment free of her pains, that she heard a whistle, loud and clear on the wind. It had to have been a human whistle, and yet it mimicked thewarbling and sweet sound of larks as they heralded a new day. It came from a tree at the beginning of the forest anew, for on the lower branches sat a young lady. Her hair was long, long behind her and long in front, and she swung stocking feet back and forth without a care. She wore a white shift with clinging sleeves, and a gold, wrapped dress atop it, tied with a sash of vivid green. There was a gold bangle on her left wrist, sporting a green stone that Jane could not discern from this far away. When her whistle faded, she glanced down at the mouth of the cave, and she cheered at the sight of the three girls.

“You brought her!” She exclaimed, her voice like bubbling sun beams, and she leapt from the branch. Jane gasped as she landed on her feet and, without pause or hesitation, ran up to Jane and took her hands. Up close, her face was smudged with dirt, and her eyes were like sparkling granny smith apples, wide behind gold spectacles. There were colorful little strings tied around all of her fingers. “You’re here! It’s really you, isn’t it? You’re our Princess!”

There was something familiar about this girl, Jane knew it – something in the shape of her face or the strength in her grip, but it was there. “I suppose I am,” She said softly, “Who might you be?”

The girl laughed and swung their arms together. “I’m Jade,” She said, taking care to pronounce the ‘d’, “Duchess of Harley, at your service!”

Harley…the name rang in Jane’s ears, and she felt a pang in her heart. So this was her, she thought, this was Jake’s little sister. How unfair it was that he was not here to see her for himself! Jane squeezed her hands and did not know what to say.

“Ain’t they cute, Nep?” Roxy asked behind her, “Family meetin’ each other like that? I bet me and Dirky were like, ten times cuter though.”

“His gurrumpy face made it not so cute,” Nepeta trilled, “But I suppaws it was.”

“ _Only_ suppaws?” Roxy gasped and clutched at her chest. “Nepeta, you’re killin’ me!”

Jade laughed at their banter, her eyes crinkling ‘round the edges. “Geez! I could listen to you guys go back and forth all day! But we should really get going, or we’ll be missed, you know? Some more than others.” She took a hand back and held it to the rogues, gesturing for them to draw closer. “Besides, jumping back and forth only works for all of us if we’re all together!” Jane watched with a wary eye as Roxy and Nepeta took their empty hands, looking to the Prospitian Duchess expectantly.

“Now, when you say, ‘jump’-” Jane began.

“-I mean with Space, duh!” Jade finished. There was a sudden crackle in the air, like thunder following tiny threads of lightening. “I can’t get us back in one big jump, but if I do two smaller ones, our body parts _should_ all be in the right place by the time we get to the other side.”

Jane’s mouth dropped open. “Only _should_?! What do we do if they aren’t??”

“That’s just a risk we gotta take, Janey,” Roxy said, shrugging, “We got here in one piece in all the right ways, didn’t we? You just gotta belieeeve.” Her mouth stretched into a comical grin on the last word.

“It really isn’t so bad as you’re making it out to be,” Nepeta said. It was worth noting that despite her words, she had begun to tremble just a little, and her own smile wavered. “I purromise that if we aren’t okay, the Madame will put us right again!”

There was another crackle, and this time Jane really did see lightening, lime and sparking from Jade and down their limbs. A deep sense of foreboding rose within Jane, and she turned her head back to the mouth of the cavern. There wasn’t any more time for her to turn back, was there? She could have turned around that entire trip through the mountain, but now, in Jade’s grasp and with the building smell of ozone, she couldn’t go back. She couldn’t apologize, couldn’t help Dirk understand-

It was in that moment, just as Dirk discovered Jane’s secret in the east, that the four girls disappeared from the Scratchlands altogether with a pop.

~*~

Travel by Space was tricky and erratic at best, but Jane wouldn’t know that. Everything she thought and felt and _was_ had been reduced to her tiniest parts, mingling with Jade and Roxy and Nepeta and playing ping pong through the cosmos in a single moment. Guided by starlight they flew, and just when the lightening and fizzing began to slow, there was a terrible yank, and a brief, painful disorientation that none of them would forget any time soon. All at once they spilled onto the ground, and Jane did not need to check to know that all of her aching body was still in one piece and still in place.

“Stop doing that!” She heard Jade exclaim beside her. How she still had half her wits to do so was amazing. “I can jump with people just fine now! I got them there okay-”

A wave of warm calm washed over them, silencing Jade’s words and catching Jane’s attention. She had not felt anything like this in such a long time, not for years and years. She had almost forgotten what this sort of calm was, lulling and deep and absolutely perfect. It made every pain and heavy thought not matter. It made her sorrows insignificant. They were never all she was, but now it was even more so.

“What a wounding thing to say, Jade,” Said a voice. The vowels whistled in its words, prettier than pan pipes or flutes ever could be. Hearing it made something tingle in Jane’s forehead. “Don’t assume I don’t believe in you! My highest concern is for your well being. When I felt you jump, I thought, well, I don’t want to be a bother, but it would be so much easier if I could bring my darling girls the whole way home, wouldn’t it?”

And there she was, before them, standing tall above them like she always had, slim and prim and proper in white, white clothes. Her fangs hung over her grin like they always had. Her eyes were as clear as they had always been, framed by the longest eyelashes, and she met Jane’s wide gaze – oh, she could not breathe for a moment! It was all too lovely to be true.

“Madame Calliope?” She asked. Two hands came to cup Jane’s face, their claws ever so gentle. Never would they ever cut or harm. Jane covered the hands with her own. “I’m dreaming,” She said, “This can’t be real!”

A green knuckle came up and pushed away the tears threatening to roll down Jane’s cheeks. She hadn’t even realized they were pricking at her eyes. “Oh, Jane,” Madame Calliope sighed, “It’s been so long. I’m sorry I never sent anyone for you sooner. You must have been so lonely.”

Slowly, Jane nodded, but there was a prickle in her chest. She hadn’t always been lonely, had she? And then it hit her, as if she had forgotten it so easily in just one moment. Jane pulled her head from Calliope’s grasp, the calm draining from her. “Jake! Madame, Jake, he’s in trouble, he needs help-”

“Sssssh.” A finger pressed against Jane’s lips, and she felt the calm pressing at her consciousness once again. “Don’t worry your pretty head about a thing, love. You’re home now. Everything will be fine.”

That calm and those words were like a salve. Slowly, slowly, it worked its way into Jane’s mind, so sure and so true that it couldn’t ever not happen. She didn’t need to fret. Everything would be fine.

The Madame pressed Jane’s hands briefly before she moved to the other girls, offering them words of comfort to their exclamations, and Jane’s attention slid from her form to the world around her. They were in a courtyard, walls of yellow brick towering behind them and tall, glittering towers at the corners. The courtyard itself was filled with fragrant and colorful flowers, the trees in full bloom with sparrows flitting from branch to branch. The same brick in the walls curled along beside them in a path, straight and perfect, towards an amazingly huge structure. Inlaid with gold and amber stood a palace, proud and so unlike the one that dominated the skies of Derse. This one was squatter, and instead of rigid lines and towers, the doorways were arches, the windows paned with colors, the building rising up into a graceful, pointed dome, like a peaked dollop of whipped cream. It all took her breath away, and at once she knew what it was, what it only could be – the Palace of Prospit.

Though her body was heavy, Jane pulled herself to her feet and walked forward. It was surreal, to be before this place, and she felt…confusion? Sadness? Curiosity?  It wasn’t strong enough to name, so smothered in honeyed calm, but she continued anyway. Someone might have called to her, Roxy perhaps, but the palace had a draw to it that she couldn’t ignore. The doors opened at the softest touch of her fingertips, and there, down a long corridor, decorated with curves and swirls and golden banners, she could just make out something at the very end, a room still dark, though there were clear windows at the end. In front of the window, Jane could see four thrones, and in front of the thrones there were figures. As Jane continued down the corridor, she could hear voices, impeccably distinct and new.

“-So, we should welcome her warmly! But not oppressively. Like, don’t just run at her and grab her, she might be nervous! We don’t want to overload her, right? First impressions are everything!”

“Joooooooohn. You are the only one worrying about this! Take a breath and stop playing with your sleeves like a dweeb, you’re gonna own this! You’re _nothing_ like Tavros.”

“Uh, I do, um, take offense to that comment, as it’s really, you know, kind of rude, as Vriska’s comments usually tend to be – ow!”

“Come again, Toreadoofus? I didn’t hear you over your stammering.”

“Well, uh-”

“Aw, come on now, you don’t gotta be like that to my Tavbro! Here, why don’t I just play some jams and we chill all frosty-like? There ain’t no better welcome than some sick fires, am I right?”

“I could think of a few things that might be more welcoming. Like cherry pie, maybe? Like the kind I was promised if I woke at such an unsavory hour? You said you would deliver, Gamzee, and I fully intend to extract that promise from you should it take too long-”

“Oh my God, Terezi, I swear, if you start threatening people this early in the morning, I will flip a shit so hard that the shit will shoot across the cosmos and hit an alternate version of myself smack in the face! Don’t fucking _start-_ ”

By the time Jane reached the end of the corridor, five of the speakers – trolls, it seemed, all too preoccupied for Jane to see them properly – were in a pile on the floor, shoving each other and flailing about, arguing like cranky children. Before them stood a boy, his back to Jane and a hand rubbing at his neck. “Man,” He said, with the air of someone who was not surprised by what he saw, “Do you guys gotta do this now? They’ll be back any second-”

The first step she took inside echoed throughout the throne room, and while the trolls were still embroiled in their dispute, the boy turned his head. It was the eyes that struck Jane the hardest, so blue with the same roundedness as her own, framed by gold. His mouth dropped open when he saw her.

“-Oh.” He turned fully, and Jane could see him better, gold pants and white tunic and gold vest, with a sash to match his eyes. There was a bangle around his right wrist to match Jade’s, but his held a stone of blue against her green. His mouth pulled back into an open-mouthed grin. “Huh! I guess...everyone’s back already?” He asked, and he held out his hand. “If they weren’t, you probably wouldn’t be here…” He paused. “Right, Jane?”

He said her name so hesitantly, as if saying it would break a spell, and she would be blown away by the wind. She took his hand. “That’s right. And you’re…you’ve got to be John. Yes?”

“Yeah, that’s me!” He pumped her arm enthusiastically. “Holy crap, I can’t believe it! Calliope and Roxy would tell us all these stories about you, but it’s amazing to finally meet you! I…” He paused, rocking on the balls of his feet, before his grasp tightened, and he pulled Jane in for a hug.

“Oh!”

“Sorry!” John’s arms were warm across her back, and his words were muffled as he spoke into her shoulder. “Sorry. I just couldn’t help it, I feel like I’ve been waiting to meet you my whole life!” He squeezed her tight, and Jane couldn’t help but wrap her own arms around him. “It just – it feels really, really great! I have a sister! A real sister!”

Jane felt her familiar chuckle bubble forth, and tears pricked at her eyes. Happy tears this time, very happy. “You make it sound so novel! I doubt other little brothers would be so enthusiastic.”

“Forget them! They’re lame!”

The pair laughed and laughed, and were still laughing like fools even when the trolls found the sense to untangle themselves from each other and examine the new arrival, even when Roxy and Nepeta and Jade, ushered by Madame Calliope, finally made their appearance. Jane had been unsure before, but with the calm settling around her and with so many welcoming, smiling faces, she finally understood what home was. It was here, in this Palace, and she never wanted to leave its safety or its happiness. And never again would she have to be unhappy, or feel pain – never. So long as she stayed here, with the Madame, so long as she never disobeyed her, never would anything be awful, so she could just…forget. Forget everything awful.

Everything.

~*~

There is a room in the Palace of Prospit, where the windows have been painted over and covered with thick woolen curtains. There are objects old and worn inside, piled high, and wrecked art lies in shambles, unseen for decades, perhaps even centuries. On the largest wall a painting hangs, the image it bears too shrouded in darkness for even a narrative to parse. Perhaps it is waiting for the right person to reveal itself to.

It is in this room where two figures have met. One is a woman. She has squirreled herself away here for not much time. A day, perhaps, battling away at the calm desperately trying to ease her mind. The other is a man. He has knelt down before her, his breath rough and pained. He has not been in this room as long as she, but he has been many places, and carries himself as if he has been travelling weeks and weeks, setting dominoes into place so they could fall in all the right ways. He swears under his breath.

“Fuck, man. I didn’t know the Cherub shit was this bad here.”

The woman’s laugh is short, like the bark of a dog. “No, _really_. I told you it was crazy, but you’re a dumb butt, so you didn’t listen!”

He groans and falls back on his rear, a hand artfully yet effortlessly carding through his hair. “After this is over,” He says, “I’m never doing anything like it again. This loop shit? Way too much work to be worth it, and we’re not even done yet.”

“What do you mean, ‘we’?” She asks, her eyes narrowing. “I’m not part of this! This was an accident-”

“Shit like this is never an accident!” He says. He would have shouted that if he did not want to keep their presence a secret. “Okay? I’ve had to live with knowing this was hanging over my head for _years_. You’ve sat on your ass and denied it four hundred and thirteen ways to Sunday, alright? Well now it’s time to buck the fuck up. We’re here for a reason, one that you know all too well, and us landing here of all places may have been an accident, but if we went back now, nothing would be how it is!” He jabbed a finger at the room’s door. It was locked from the outside, but locks could not keep either of them contained. “You _know_ what’s going on out there is fucked up. She’ll know it, too, and when she does, that’s when we can stop, because when she knows, everything’ll snowball into place.”

The woman shakes her head, but her refusal of his words is meaningless. He is the only one who can bring her back to where she belongs, to where they both belong. When their times come, they will act as only they know they should act, they who served only King and Queen and Country even when that country was a distant dream, and King and Queen were still playing at Prince and Princess.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A short chapter this time, but I think it raises plenty of questions. And no, I am unfortunately not going through all of the Prospitian Court like I did for the Dersites. That would be way too much, and besides, there's a stretch of time here where things are meant to feel hurried and trippy. For good reason, I assure you. They'll get something different, though. Something really epic.


	18. Hatred

It had been three days. Three days of respite after a long and arduous trek through the Scratchlands, watching as the days lengthened and spring began to dwindle away. It only took about five days to get through (Dersites could be very persistent that way), but that didn’t make it any less difficult. After all, they took one of those nights, the one with the fullest moon, to find a pass between the mountains they could all fit through. Like hell they would actually climb one of the goddamn things, as many of their number put it.

But, back to the point: three days. That was how long they waited before Dirk emerged from the tree line. He was alone and dirty, and the pack on his back was nearly empty of supplies, but he was very much alive, and he walked steadily down to where the war march had made their camp. He ignored the cries of surprise from the troops, the chiding from his troll nobles. It was almost disgusting how homey they had made themselves here, and how easily they had done it, as if they were not truly the warriors they all pretended to be, and wished for the comforts of home over all else.

Well. At least they had waited for him.

He was a man possessed, cutting through the throngs of people, when someone finally grabbed his arm and tugged. Dirk stopped in his tracks, and his body tensed.

“Oh God,” Dave drawled, “Dude, don’t do the cat thing, it is twelve kinds of weird when you do the cat thing.” He tugged again, and Dirk let him turn his body ‘round. His brother could not hide his concern, his brow crinkled and the glimpses of eyes behind spectacles redder than usual.

Come on Dave, Dirk thought, you’re a Prince of Derse, you can keep it together better than that.

“We thought you were dead,” Dave said. His voice wavered. “We thought – we found Maplehoof when we got here, we didn’t know what to think. Where’s Jane?”

There it was. Dirk knew that question was bound to come, and he pulled his arm from Dave’s grasp. “Not here,” He said.

“Then _where_? I don’t wanna believe my bro would let anyone he gave a rat’s ass about get eaten or maimed or-”

“She wasn’t eaten. She hasn’t been maimed.” He didn’t like the feelings rising in his chest, partially because he was too afraid to examine them and name them, and it was a struggle not to. Dirk had always been one to parse himself, to weed out any minute weakness, but he had been trudging through the Scratchlands for days now, eating little and sleeping less. The last shred of sense he had begged him not to be introspective, because really, _really_ , whatever lurked inside of him would surely destroy him, and destruction could not be. “She defected.”

“With who? What for?” Any semblance of composure Dave was trying to cultivate was completely obliterated as his expressions sharpened, his hands gesturing wildly. “Explain, Bro! _Explain_!”

But he did not explain. Dirk walked away, intending to retreat to his caravan and his bed and sleep, when he noticed something odd. Caliborn’s caravan was with the others, as it always had been. It had been righted and repaired, as well it should. The curtains of its window had been pulled back, and there was a soft, multicolored glow coming from within. Someone had to have been inside to enjoy all those cryptic skull lights. Someone had to have lit them.

He entered the Lord’s caravan without a second thought.

“My, my, my. How rude. I expected a Prince. Would have the common decency to knock.”

Dirk threw the packs on his back to the ground. “And just where in holy nun-fucking friar hell have _you_ been?”

The hulking form in the caravan sitting room laughed, slow and rumbling. It was Caliborn for sure. There were bandages wrapped around his limbs, and possibly his stomach, from how he held himself. He looked tired, far too tired to put up with the snot nosed royalty of Derse.

“I asked you a question, _Sir_.”

“I know,” Caliborn said, “But I was appreciating. Your foul and loquacious nature. I have missed it in my time away.” He leaned forward with a grunt, resting his elbows on his knees. “On the night of my disappearance I was accosted. By a devious and malicious scoundrel. His tricks were many. His cloak was obnoxious. He also defaced my door and chased off my companion of the female persuasion. I pursued him into the Scratchlands and lost him in the forests. I then wandered until I met up with your subjects.”

This he said simply, so matter-of-fact that it was clear he was not lying. Even someone like Caliborn could tell the truth, after all. Dirk tilted his head slightly in consideration. “He sure fucked you up good.”

Caliborn laughed. “This?” He asked, gesturing to his dressed wounds, “This is nothing but scratches! My soldiers overreacted. Most of it is from the forest itself.” He gestured to the door. “Are we done? I grow bored. Even you can be boring, Dirk.”

Something clutched in the palm of Dirk’s hand burned him with its heat. He grit his teeth and lobbed it at the Cherub, and it bounced off of his hard, bald head. He barely flinched.

“I’ve got one question for you,” Dirk said. Out of all his feelings, anger surged forward, but not the kind that was brief and hot like the flare of a match. This was cold anger, slow and encroaching like ice in the north. “I can ignore that you had your booty call hiding out in your caravan all this time. I can ignore whatever dude that decided to send me on a Goddamn goose chase when they forged a bunch of nonsense clockwork in your door.” The object had fallen to the floor, and it glinted in the colored lights. Dirk jabbed a finger at it. “But you knew. You knew, didn’t you?”

Eyes flickered to the object on the floor, an amber pendant now very familiar to Dirk. It had imprinted into his hand in red and his mind in yellows and golds. Caliborn plucked it from the ground by its chain, delicately holding it between the claws on his thumb and forefinger. He let the pendant dangle before his face, smiling an ever-growing shit eating grin.

“Why not be more specific, Dirk?”

That last shred of sense was shrinking with every passing moment.

The lights in the caravan flared as Caliborn laughed again. “Did I know?” He asked, his voice rising, “Only a fool. Would think my sister would play guard dog for just any children! Many people think I am a fool, Dirk. I don’t know why. I am clever. Superior! I fear nothing!” He swung the pendant once, twice, before he let it fly back to Dirk, who caught it easily. “So when I had the chance. I captured her pieces. And took them as my own.”

“So it’s your fault we had such a breech in our borders in the first place,” Dirk said. His hand itched for the hilt of his sword, but a fight would prove nothing. “You’ve told me for years not to suffer Prospit’s Princess to live, and yet you kept her under your roof for eight years.”

“I was breaking her spirit,” Caliborn said. He smiled, unafraid of Dirk’s wrath, knowing he could stop the boy if he lashed out without a lick of effort. “Putting the bitch in her place. Making sure her Duke knew. There was no escape while under my eye. And no hope for the life they were born unto.” He shrugged. “I did not expect her to get this far when she ran away! I did not expect her to live past the duels. Despite the fire in her!” Caliborn shook his head and tutted like a disappointed mother. “I cannot understand why you didn’t see it sooner. She is a disgusting weakling. She is soft and ugly and a traitor to you. From the day you met she has worked to ensnare you in her trap. She is a _fiend_.” He spat the last word as if it was the rotting cherry atop a melting, sour sundae.

If it were any day before today, Dirk would have agreed with him about the nature of the Princess of Prospit, but he could not bring himself to. Jane was not a fiend. She was a person, as diverse as the rainbow that a prism casts, more than what that pendant meant in its mere existence. She was brave in defying the Lord and for plunging into the asylum Derse called its nobility. She was sharp and quick witted, a fast learner and already vastly improved from when she had started, even if she was still a mere beginner. She took the serious things seriously and took no one’s shit unless she had no other choice, and it was always with a wonderfully defiant grimace that she never seemed aware she was making. And…she had been honest, hadn’t she? Her friendship could not have been a lie. After all, why else would she have been sorry? Why bother to reveal herself to him at all after she left? Either way he would have found out, whether in the Scratchlands or in the throne room of Prospit with his blade at her neck. Even _that_ image made Dirk sick to his stomach. He couldn’t kill a friend! Wouldn’t! Why would he kill someone he cared for, who never intended to claim him for herself-

Dirk hadn’t realized he’d spoken aloud until claws twined into his hair and pulled, the pain rousing him to his senses. His chest ached as if his heart, his very soul, was fracturing with deep fissures.

“You forget yourself,” Caliborn said. It would have been easier if he yelled. “As glorious as it is. To see just how expressive you can be. It is obvious that the bitch has already bamboozled you.”

“That’s a load of horse shit and you know it,” Dirk said. It was excruciating, but he clung to the pain inside of him, for it seemed to keep the brunt of the fear at bay. “All of it is. You’re yanking everyone’s chain and I refuse to be pulled in anymore!”

“But you must!” The Lord exclaimed with gee. He moved his hands to cup Dirk’s face in mocking affection, and the boy stilled. His head could be ripped off at any moment, this he knew. “If you fall. All of Derse falls. Your people enslaved. Your nobles slaughtered. Do not assume royal blood won’t be spilt,” He added, “I am sure their most ruthless. Will enjoy the cries of the Dave and Rose Humans best.” Slowly, cruelly, the clawed hands slid down to rest on Dirk’s shoulders. “And you. Will be nothing more than a pretty plaything sitting on a gilded shelf. With strings of chains to hold you down. And for what? For a kingdom plated pearl? For a life devoid of the human disease. Known as love? Do not fight me, Dirk. You know I am always correct.”

He wasn’t. Dirk believed that sincerely, but that was the thing about living under a Lord with powers such as his. No matter how much he blocked the fear from the outside, there was already fear within him that had casted deep and strong roots into his being. Growing and gaining strength, from the moments his eyes went unguarded to when he clutched an old cloth friend in his sleep, the influence was something he was willing to shoulder. Anything, he always thought, anything to spare the others. So he said nothing.

Caliborn hummed, a deep and growling thing. “Perhaps,” He said, “You need more motivation. I have been soft this round. As an act of rare benevolence to my sister. She needs so many handicaps.” His eyes flickered, billiards in an empty skull, and his ghoulish lights mimicked with their colors. “It is time. For the gloves that are figurative and fake. To come off!”

The spectacles were flicked up, and something new hit Dirk in lieu of the flooding, familiar fear. It was bitter and sharp, and he felt hot bile in the back of his throat.

“Tell me, Dirk,” The Lord said, “Do you like hatred?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A very short chapter to help create some distance between Jane's down time in the Palace of Prospit and the real issues going down. Also, I can't exactly throw you into the grand finale without an idea of what's gone on with our dear Dersites, can I? Because then shit will be cray and you won't know up from down.
> 
> I wrote most of the next chapter before I did this one, so hopefully that should be up soon.


	19. Haze

Jane needed a bath, and so she was given a bath. Madame Calliope had taken the clothes that she had worn all this time; “Such ugly things,” She had said when Jane asked after them, “Don’t think about them anymore. I have new things for you to wear, pretty new things! A Princess should always wear pretty things, shouldn’t she?”

Ah, Jane thought, the calm absolving her concern, of course she should. Why had she even worried?

The clothes Madame Calliope provided were nearly identical to those of her peers of the realm. There was a white shift, the sleeves of which were very baggy and possibly weighted, for they made it difficult to lift her arms. There was a wrap dress of shimmering gold fabric with stitched swirls, and a sash of sky blue held it together. She had slippers of gold and a tiara of gold, and inlaid in the center was a teardrop of that pretty stone, the same kind in her trident (which, of course, had been handed over to the Madame straightaway; “You don’t need dangerous things like that anymore, right Jane?”). She fitted it on her head, and while it was snug, it sat their easily, as if it always belonged there.

“Now doesn’t that make for a pretty picture?” Madame Calliope said when she finally emerged. “I knew larimar would suit your tiara. It’s just like your eyes!”

The stone was in more than just Jane’s tiara. In a room that she could barely believe was hers, on the base of the dome with windows facing the east, there were all sorts of lovely amenities. She had a big bed all her own with blankets like the sky spun into cloth. She had shelves of books free for her to read, and a big desk with blue-inked pens and a jewelry box filled with gold and larimar. There were earrings and finger rings and pendants and bangles, and if she hadn’t been so dazzled by how all this wonderful stuff was for her, and if that calm did not root itself so deeply in her heart, she might have noticed how old all of it was, how everything was freshly cleaned and yet still carried a sense of ancientness with it.

In no time at all, it seemed, Jane began to accustom herself to life in the Palace of Prospit. She would bathe every morning, for the luxury was available to her. She would breakfast with the Madame on peach cornbread and talk of many things – the expectations of a Princess, the things she had yet to learn. “We will take our time with them,” Calliope said, “We have all the time in the world, after all.” There was something about those words that struck Jane as off, but try as she might, she could not remember what it could be, and thought little of it afterwards.

She spent her mornings and much of her afternoons deeply engrossed in studies. John and Jade were years ahead of her in so many royal subtleties, but they were eager and ready to help her at every turn, playful even at their most serious. Jade was the one who taught her how to move, how to do things while encumbered by her heavy clothes, though Jade rarely conducted herself in this way. She was often barefoot and messily dressed in favor of romping about in the courtyard and scaling ledges that were best left unscaled. If ever she slipped, she would disappear in a pop and a flash, and appear again on the ground, laughing as if she had not nearly fallen to her death. John’s lessons were more on issues and matters of state. To the public (and still even now, for Jane’s return had not been announced to her people just yet) he was the Heir Transparent, and he approached such things with a casual and jovial sense, for he was used to them.

“It’s really important to not freak out,” He explained to her one day. Jane had one of the Palace’s books on Life in her lap, and she was skimming it as he talked, not wanting to forget all she had learned on her now hazy travels. “All our citizens, they can get scared if they see we’re scared. So we’ve got to reassure them. They are counting on us to take care of them!”

“Mm-hm,” Jane said, eyes riveted to her book. A strong breeze came by, fluttering the pages and obscuring her place, and she looked up at John, blinking owlishly. There was a smirk on his face and a deep blue glow around one hand.

“You’re listening, right?” He asked.

“Of course!”

“Then what’d I just say?”

“That I should always keep my composure for the sake of peace.” She turned back to her book and rifled through the pages. “I can listen and read at the same time, John. I’ve got a lot to learn, don’t I? I can’t fall behind in a single thing.”

He seemed satisfied with that, but every so often, a nudge of wind would pull her from delving too deeply into Life. Breath really was such a funny Art in his hands.

In the time before and after supper, where the Madame and the Court all dined together, humans in white and gold and trolls in black and white and all with colored sashes, Jane made it a priority to spend some time with the Prospitian Nobles. They were, after all, a new and fantastic extension of her family, and it wouldn’t be right to ignore them. There would be days where Lady Vriska Serket would take her aside and regale her with tales of the Palace’s yore, when they were children. Some parts might have been embellished, but they made for entertaining stories nonetheless, though a small and weakening part of Jane’s mind found it odd that not once did she ever speak of the Battle of Crumpled Hat, for a battle yarn seemed so up her alley; nor did she ever mention Courts of generations past, as if their exploits were not worth her time. There would be days where Lord Tavros Nitram would show her the plants of the courtyard, the wild animals that made their home there and the stables where livestock was held. He was always so gentle with them, as if he preferred their company over anyone else’s, and even began to teach Jane how to ride horses; while she did not excel at it, Tavros was very encouraging and she felt like she was making real progress. There would be days where Lord Gamzee Makara would lazily tug her into the Palace kitchens, and they would lose themselves in making concoctions from the stores, sharing with their compatriots and making a complete and utter mess that they had as much fun cleaning as they did creating. He had to be the oddest of the bunch, but Jane found him amiable enough, if very obviously sedated in some way. Yes, the days seemed endless and innumerable, blending together in perfect calm and peace…

At least, until one morning.

Jane woke to a note slipped under the crack of her door, and of footsteps retreating down the hall. Curious, she retrieved it, and read carefully the teal scrawl, eyes squinting to decipher the numbers that littered the words:

**YOUR GR4C3**

**1 HUMBLY R3QU3ST YOUR PR3S3NC3 1N MY R3SP1T3BLOCK FOR TH3 4NC13NT TR4D1T1ON OF 4 LUNCH3ON B3TW33N TWO R3SP3CT4BL3 4ND CL3V3R B31NGS OF TH3 F3M4L3 P3RSU4S1ON**

**TH3 TH3M3 1S CR1MSON 3XPLOS1ON 4ND 1F YOU W3R3 TO SN1TCH TH3 CH3RRY CORD14LS FROM TH3 NUTR1T1ON BLOCK 1 WOULD B3 MOST GR4T3FUL 4S W3LL 4S T4K3 TH3 BRUNT OF 4NY 4CCUS4T1ONS 4S TO TH31R D1S4PP34R4NC3**

**B31NG TH3 PR1M3 SUSP3CT 4S W3LL 4S TH3 L4W OF TH3 L4ND H4S 1TS B3N3F1TS**

**S1NC3R3LY YOUR 3V3R LOY4L M4J3STY OF TH3 CRU3L3ST B4R L4DY T3R3Z1 PYROP3**

Jane smiled. Lady Pyrope and another troll, a rather ornery fellow she only knew as General Vantas, were the two trolls that seemed to elude her the most. To tell the truth, she had barely been able to speak with them, much less get to know them. Perhaps they were shy, she had thought, and needed time to gird themselves before opening up to new people. Either way, there was no chance she would turn down such an invitation, especially one with such a mischievous request. As noon neared, she slipped into the kitchen and placed the tin of cherry cordials in her baggy sleeves; it was their one useful function. There was also a jar of preserved cherries in the pantry and, wanting to be a gracious guest, Jane took those as well. They wouldn’t be missed, she was sure.

The Palace of Prospit was constructed almost whimsically, functional only through a fluke and surprisingly structurally sound. The throne room had one long staircase that curled up to the four rooms at the base of its dome, and under its spirals on each side of the hallway were open doorways to the Palace’s other rooms. The first one was a veritable engine, where the laundry and the kitchens waited, where there was a dining hall and a library and other such things nestled snuggly together. This, like the other half, had three floors, and on the top floor there were two rooms – one was the Madame’s quarters, and the other was absolutely and utterly forbidden. Any attempt at entry was punishable by means that none of the court were brave enough to discover. The other half held the quarters – or respiteblocks as they were so called – of the Prospitian Court, two to a floor. Lady Pyrope’s was on the second, and Jane wasted no time in reaching it. Her sigil was on the door in brilliant teal, and Jane rapped smartly upon it.

“The door is open,” said a voice, and Jane heeded it. The room was filled with cluttered shelves, books piled upon books and lopsided, well loved dragon toys on every surface. There was a well-kept recuperacoon, and a table sat before it. Papers and pens and glass bottles had been shoved to one end so the other was clear, set with plates and forks and cups and primly cut sandwiches. And at the other end of the table, her chin propped onto laced fingers, was Lady Terezi Pyrope. Her eyes snapped onto Jane, attentive and clear. Her black lips curled into a smile. “Aah, Your Grace. I have been expecting you.”

 Jane reached into her sleeves and pulled out the tin of cordials. “I believe you made a request,” She said. Immediately, Terezi dropped her posture and reached out to Jane, a wicked gleam in her eyes.

“Oh, oh! As Her Majesty of the Cruelest Bar, I demand you relinquish those at once!” She chuckled when the tin was in her hands, and with a bit of reluctance she set it aside. That was when Jane placed the preserved cherries on the table; upon seeing those, Terezi’s laughter intensified. “Well, well, well! You’re playing one dangerous game now, Your Grace! Petty theft of candy can be swept under the rug, but embellishments? If caught I will have no choice but to prosecute you at the court block!”

“Hoo hoo! Oh, please, Lady Pyrope, do spare me from the noose!” Jane pressed a hand to her mouth as her chuckles bubbled over. It was a bit sharp and almost fiendish, but Terezi’s glee was instantaneously infectious. The troll made short work of the jar’s top and began to pick the cherries out by their stems, popping them gleefully between her teeth.

“If I’d have known you’d be such a generous guest, I would have invited you here sooner!” She said, her mouth quite full. She gestured to the sandwiches. “Go ahead, help yourself! I didn’t make the dumb things just to look pretty!”

Jane obliged, taking a sandwich and placing it on her plate. “You sure are fond of cherries,” She observed, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone eat them straight from the jar.”

“Well aren’t they perfect?” Terezi plucked one from the jar and held it up for Jane to see. “Sweet and juicy and amazingly red! Anything red is delicious, Your Grace, it’s a scientifically proven fact.” She placed the cherry on Jane’s plate, perhaps on a generous impulse, before she turned to the clutter on her table and pulled out a figurine. It fit perfectly in the palm of her hand, a baby dragon rising from its cracked egg, and there was a round hole in its open mouth. With a bit more rooting around, Terezi pulled a long, thin stick from her hoard. “You don’t mind if I light some incense, do you? I’ve taken a shine to this blend and just cannot get enough!”

Jane wrinkled her nose at the mention of incense, though she could not quite place why. A hazy memory of shredded tobacco and a cruel gaze rose up in her mind. “I wouldn’t be…opposed,” Jane said, and Terezi looked ever so pleased with that answer. She fitted one end of the stick on the dragon’s mouth and lit the other, the smoke quickly wafting up in thin, curling ribbons. The scent that came up was surprisingly pleasant, and Jane got a proper whiff of it when Terezi set the burner between them. It was like a warm breeze off the salty sea, and beneath that was a note of something citrus.

“It’s very cleansing,” Terezi said, taking a sandwich for herself, “I find that palace life can be wearying at times. Too much buzzes around to clutter the senses, far too much. You’ll find yourself thinking very clearly after a while, Your Grace, and if you ever desire some incense for your own room, I would be more than happy to oblige.”

“Oh, that won’t be necessary, but thank you,” Jane said, smiling amiably. “All of you have been so kind in helping me, I don’t know if I could ever return that kindness.”

Terezi nodded sagely. “I’m sure you’ll find a way,” she said. “Give it time.”

They ate in silence for a time, enjoying each other’s company and breathing deeper and deeper of the incense. It was oranges, Jane realized as she finished her sandwich, the scent underneath the sea breeze was like an orange being peeled beside her on a beach. She leaned back in her chair and closed her eyes to bask in it. In her mind’s eye was a hazy picture, a pair of tired eyes as orange as the note in Terezi’s incense. To see them made Jane’s chest warm and ache, and she frowned, pressing a hand over her heart.

“Are you alright, Your Grace?” Terezi asked. Jane’s eyes fluttered open to see the troll leaning closer.

“I’m-” But before she could reassure her, a horrid pain shot through Jane’s head. It was as if a needle had pierced through the jewel on her tiara and right into her forehead, so minute and yet so powerful that she felt her entire body weaken, and she gasped for breath and clutched her head.

The incense dragon was pushed closer to her. “Breathe a little deeper,” Terezi said, “It’ll take the headache away.”

“I – I didn’t have a headache until after breathing that in!” Jane exclaimed. Something in her head was screaming at her to get up, but she could barely move her body, so sapped it was by the pain. Terezi pushed it even closer.

“Breathe,” She said. Her voice was firm. “It’s just a reaction. It will pass. Trust the troll girl who knows how minds work, Your Grace, it will ease the pain considerably.”

Her words sparked recognition in Jane. “Minds…you know minds?” She asked. A face swam in her vision, familiar somehow. “Is that the Art you study?”

Terezi nodded.

“T-That means you’re Prospit’s seer, too!” The pain only grew stronger the longer she persisted, but a scrap of something had fallen into Jane’s awareness, and she clung to it desperately. “Could you…would you be able to help someone who’s completely forgotten himself? Who’s forgotten what his loved ones mean to him?”

Terezi nodded again, that sharp smile returning to her face. “Oh, yes, something like that is very simple for someone like me,” She said, and she stood up. “There’s a neverending list of mind-altering tricks I can call upon. Someone might have used them to create such a scenario, and it can easily be undone. I could whip up a potion to do it.”

“Would you? Could you?” The urgency in her voice surprised even Jane, even as all that had been hazy began to resurface. Jake, yes, he was in trouble all alone with the Dersite Court. That was the only reason she has agreed to come here, how could she have forgotten him? “Oh, please, I beg of you!”

“Heheh! No begging necessary. I can be very generous.” With swift steps she was by Jane’s side, with a steadying hand on her shoulder. “But if you could do just one thing in return for me? It’s not much, just a trifle really. I’d like to give you some of my incense. I’ve even got an extra burner lying around. If you light it at night and let it burn while you sleep, you’re going to find that you feel much better. No headaches next time, I promise.”

It was the fuzzy thoughts and memories that made Jane nod her head; they rankled her curiosity. Perhaps, if given enough time away from the incense, she would change her mind, but for now she was happy to fulfill any promise that would get her what she came here for. “Of course,” She said. “I – I trust you, Lady Pyrope.”

“Please.” The smile filled with sharp, pointed teeth. “You can call me Terezi.”

With a strong grip and sly insistence, Terezi ushered Jane from the chair and led her to the door. “You look exhausted, Your Grace. Maybe you should lie down for a while.” She slid a bundle of sticks, a pack of matches, and a small, plain burner into Jane’s sleeves. “No one would begrudge you for taking a rest. It’s been a lot for you lately, this whole new life.” When Jane was outside her door, Terezi’s hand left her. “But you wouldn’t want to forget all that’s happened before because it’s chock full of despair. Right?”

Jane’s brow furrowed. “Forget everything before…?”

The troll shook her head. “Ah, I really have said too much. But saying any more and it’s less of a nudge in the right direction and more a violent push. That is not my style at all. Have a good afternoon, Your Grace.” With one final nod, Terezi closed her door, and Jane stared at it blankly. Already everything was sinking into a haze, though the weight of the incense and burner in her sleeve was enough of a reminder of their presence.

As she walked out of the Court’s quarters, holding her head, Jane tried to make sense of what had happened, but it was as if her thoughts were water spilling through her fingers. The hand at her head curled into a fist. “Goodness, what is going on…?”

It was then, as she passed the doorway to the rooms on the other side of the hall that she saw something flicker at the corner of her eye, and heavy footsteps echoed in her ears. Someone was running up to the higher floors, someone dressed in a red cloak, the hood pulled up. No one in the Palace wore so much red. Jane steeled herself against her shaking thoughts and hurried after them.

Up past the kitchens and laundry room, further past the library and dining room, the figure did not stop even when they reached the Madame’s floor. They ignored her door completely and slid to a stop in front of another – in front of the forbidden door. Jane gasped as their hand reached for the doorknob, her eyes going wide.

“Stop! You can’t go in there!” She exclaimed, but the figure disappeared as their hand touched the doorknob, and she stopped in her tracks. Had she…had she hallucinated that figure? Had there been something in that incense that tripped up her mind? She wouldn’t be surprised, especially considering the figure’s color choice and Terezi’s penchant for red. She was about to turn around and put the incident from her mind completely…

…When the door slowly creaked open.

There was a terrible and specific curiosity that had always lived in Jane. Some would say it was ill befitting a Princess to be inquisitive, that there were some things best left unknown for the greater good. She would have turned away completely had the scent of the sea and oranges not lingered, drumming up some ghost of defiance within her. Slowly, surely, she walked towards the door and slipped inside, the door closing behind her with a click.

It was nearly pitch black in the room, for its windows were covered, but as Jane’s eyes accustomed themselves to the darkness she could make out massive piles around her. Clumsily she reached into her sleeve, groping about until she grabbed onto the things Terezi had so kindly and conveniently provided to her. Near blind was Jane as she fitted a stick of incense into the burner, and when a match finally flared to life in her hands, she lit that stick immediately. Its light was minimal and soft, especially to that of the match itself, but it would last much longer, and at least now she had enough light to see where she stepped. And so, she began to pick her way through the room, cupping the burning incense and guiding its light. Sea breeze and orange flooded her senses, and she struggled against the rising tide of memory to look at what was around her.

The things in this room were here for a reason, and that reason was that Madame Calliope did not want them to trouble the Court. They were cumbersome things, she had explained to Jane one morning, boring and old and really nothing to worry about! But they were so very, very intriguing. There were old, dented suits of armor for man and woman alike, crumbled busts that barely resembled those who posed for them. There were rotting books and worn clothes and toys broken from use. All this and more Jane looked upon, things that could have filled a dozen lifetimes’ worth of living. Whatever was it all doing here?

The painting came up on Jane suddenly. She had been so engrossed in the mounds of things that she nearly ran into its frame, incredibly ornate and very dust. It was huge, and Jane could barely see what it depicted in the incense’s light, only a plate at the bottom of the frame. She reached out and wiped it, cringing at the inch of dust that rumpled under her touch.

“Eugh, how long ago was this last cleaned?” She asked aloud. There was something engraved upon the plate. Jane squinted her eyes and held the incense closer to read the words:

**HER GRACE,**

**QUEEN JANE CROCKER**

**THE ELEVENTH OF PROSPIT**

There was a catch to her breath, a terrible and deep shiver rising up from Jane’s very core that she could not explain; Life churned like the ocean waves inside of her. She fumbled again for her matches, her fingers trembling, and she struck them again and again, an innumerable amount of times until finally, finally, one flared to life, and, knowing it would quickly burn down to her fingers, Jane held it aloft. The painting before her depicted a woman in her older years, her clothes a bit more old fashioned but very similar to Jane’s own. She sat with her hands folded before her, hair graying at the temples. There was no smile on her face, but a knowing twinkle to her eyes, as if she looked beyond the paint and down at Jane herself in this very moment. Though beginning to wrinkle, the face was undeniably familiar, one that she had seen many times. From the shape of the jaw to the bridge of the nose, from cyan eyes to the curl of the hair, Jane knew her own face, and it stared down at her from the analogues of time.

When the match’s flame bit at Jane’s fingers, she yelped and waved it out, dropping the smoldering bit to the ground. Life had just begun to prickle at the burns when she heard footsteps from the hall.

“Hello? Is anybody in there?”

What should have brought ease and calm only, strangely, filled Jane with dread – it was the Madame who called from behind the closed door. She blew the incense out and darted behind the nearest pile, curling in on herself to be as small as possible. When the door clicked, she pressed a hand to her mouth to quiet her breathing.

 “Hello?” The Madame asked again. Her footsteps were slow. Perhaps she was looking into the nooks and crannies of the piles. “Has someone gotten in here? You all know this room is private, my dears.” Another step, and yet another. “If this is the same rascal who snitched the key to this room from mine, then we must have words immediately. I am positively sure I taught all of you better than to steal and snoop! And if it isn’t one of my dears – _well_!” She tutted with particular fervor. “Let it not be said that I am merciless, but there are some secrets a lady wishes to keep to herself.”

 With every step she drew closer, whatever light she held brightened Jane’s surroundings that much more, but she shut her eyes tight against them, against the Madame’s secrets that she could not comprehend. And then, she stopped. Just like that, the light stilled and the footsteps silenced. There was a faint sniffing sound, light and inquisitive.

“…What is that smell?”

The incense! Jane still held it tight, and while it no longer smoldered, it wasn’t a stretch to presume that its scent now most certainly clung to her. The Madame would follow the scent for sure and discover her, and after that, no one but the Madame knew what would happen, and Jane was sure it did not warrant dwelling thoughts.

There was a sudden crash far behind Jane, near the front of the room, and something slammed into the door. The Madame’s retreat was as quick as her approach was slow, and her voice rose as she called out, something growling underneath her sweet cadence. “ _HALT AT ONCE!_ ”

As her footsteps faded down the hall, so did Jane’s dread, and she dropped her hand from her mouth and gasped for air. Sea breeze and citrus filled her lungs, and while that finally dispelled the calm that had shrouded her mind, it also pulled her from that golden happiness she had grown so content with. She had no idea what the painting before her meant. The aged figure was too like her to be some ancestor. In fact, had Jane ever learned of her royal ancestry? She knew nothing of an eleventh queen that shared her name and christened the northern hall with its title, though it would make sense to, wouldn’t it? She had lived her whole life in Crocker Hall, why not know of the woman it was named for?

The soft light from the open door illuminated the room far better than the incense had, and to look at it all even now transformed it from just moth-eaten fossils of the past. These things in this room, they meant something to their owners, held precious memories even in their present form. Memories that the Madame found reason to hide, but could not bring herself to properly part with. If she had any sense, she would have destroyed what she wanted to keep secret. But then again, why bother to destroy anything when those you wished to hide things from did not question why something had to be hidden?

Jane took a deep and shuddering breath. “How much,” She gasped, “How much do I not know? Truly…” Her eyes flickered towards where the painting was, though she did not dare look at it. “Truly, there is so much more to Prospit than meets the eye. So much more…!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So do I have to spell out exactly what's going in dear old Forgestuck, or do you finally have an idea? It's okay. We'll have someone break it down...the chapter after next. I've got a lot of plot threads to braid together!


	20. Crusader

The tin of cherry cordials was cracked open, and Terezi slid it across the table towards her guest. “I still don’t understand why I had to wait so long to snap Her Grace to her senses,” She said, her fingertips lingering on the rim. “The only reason the capitol hasn’t gone to ruin yet is because nearly every citizen is half-baked on Cherub whimsies, and they don’t think to look too far beyond the horizon. I’m starting to get nervous, my sweet Strawberry Crusader. I am never nervous, and I don’t like it.”

The man in the red cloak snorted, and he gratefully took a candy from the tin. “Just chill, Pyrope,” He said, popping it into his mouth, “Everything’s gonna work out like it’s supposed to if we all play our parts. I’m not a dude who’s especially down with fate and all that junk, but you gotta pay attention to that shit in my line of work.”

“Ah, yes, _your_ line of work.” Terezi laced her fingers and propped her chin upon them. “It must be very interesting for you to request my services, and what a lucky coincidence it is that many of our goals coincide! Pinch me, please, I’ve got to be dreaming!”

There was an underlying current to her words, an intrigued and malicious joy that the man in the red cloak knew well. She may enjoy helping him, but she was still very suspicious of his motives, and he didn’t blame her. “Hey now, what kinda guy do you take me for? I couldn’t pinch a pretty lady. That ain’t right.”

“Heheh! Cease these buttery exclamations, I am not a charred slice of bread! Besides…” Terezi reached a hand into her ever-present pile of table clutter. “I know exactly what you came here for, and it was not to flirt.”

Down to brass tacks as always, this one. The man in the red hood waited patiently as his host rooted through her things, pulling out a flask of iridescent liquid. It was nearly identical to the one he still carried with him, the one he had used at the start of all this, but the contents were very different.

“One memory restoration potion,” Terezi proclaimed, setting it on the table, “The twin of the memory deterioration potion, for only the twin will truly restore what’s been deteriorated. Made in tandem, of course, because you can’t not make them in tandem. It just doesn’t work like that. That would defeat the purpose of a figurative poison and its literal cure.”

He whistled, and Terezi did not stop him when he took the flask to hold it to the light. “Man, but wouldn’t it make sense for someone to make ‘em and destroy the cure? When you fuck around with a person’s head, usually it’s with malicious intent and you want them to stay clueless.”

“Maybe where _you_ are from,” She said with a waggling finger, “But there is always a balance to things here – a burn to a balm, a right to a wrong. Besides, even if you did, the poison would corrode and become useless on its own. If already partaken of, the victim would lose their mind completely. So do mind that flask, Strawberry Crusader, I didn’t go through all the trouble to prepare the stuff in secret for it to go to waste.”

With a smirk, he slipped it into the folds of his cloak. “Will do.”

He did not linger long after that. The man in the red cloak had gotten what he wanted, and that was all that mattered. Though he did have time to spare, he would rather not spare it. After all, strange things happened when you tested the limits of Time. With none of Space’s fanfare he disappeared, leaving his conspirator to her candies.

It wasn’t much of a jump, perhaps a few minutes or so, but it was the location that was most important. Silent and unnoticed, he appeared on the top of a very familiar roof. It was still night, and the air of spring had long lost its chill, but it cooled him regardless, and he slunk down to lay flat on the top, an ear cupped to the roof and straining to listen. There were muffled voices coming from below – not right below him, but below that, as if in a completely different room. One was desperate, confused and pleading and less pathetic this time around, much more pitiable. The other was still just as harsh and wrong as it had sounded before. With an easy grace, the man in the red cloak dropped from roof to ledge, from ledge to foothold, from foothold to ground and circled around to the door. He cupped his ear to it like he had done before, listening, waiting to see if the cost was clear.

“-I trusted you,” The second voice said. It was strained, barely holding back things that only now the man in the red cloak understood. There was anger, yes, terrible anger, and the despair that came with sheltering a cracking heart. “I wanted you at my side in this war. You really were the very best out of every Page in Derse, I, I was going to give you _everything_ -”

“Your Majesty, _please_ ,” Begged the first, heavy with tears, “I haven’t got the damndest clue what you’re on about! I haven’t got any family to speak of, why else would the Lord have taken me on?”

There was a long sigh, disgusted and tired. “Caliborn’s motives aren’t the things in question here. Stop bringing him up. He’s not going to swoop in and save you like you’re some buck-toothed damsel in distress. Man up and own up, English, and do it quick. The sooner you do, the sooner I can chain you up somewhere out of my sight.”

The first voice sniffed heavily, but it said nothing else. He’d been told as much for a very long time, now, and the man in the red cloak knew he was close to breaking. The second voice did not challenge his silence, and soon there was the subtle creak of steps on a ladder. The man counted each one, the number of rungs imprinted on his mind, and when he was sure that no one would disturb his task, he slipped inside.

The royal caravan was dark, but he knew it well enough not to bump into anything like an idiot. There, in the very back, he could make out a huddled form, its head bowed and its shoulders shuddering. A heavy iron collar had been fastened around its neck, attached to the wall behind by a thick chain, and its hands had been tied behind its back. The man in the red cloak stood and stared for just a moment, unnoticed and so very deep in thought.

He knew it was Jake English bound before him. He knew every exclamation he had made imprisoned, every plea and every confession. He was both innocent and guilty, this young Page – no, this Duke, who even in his true identity had never meant any harm, and regret stirred in the man with the red cloak. It had not been the first Prince of Derse who had dirtied his hands with locking him away, after all, nor would he once raise his fist against this boy.

Perhaps, thought the man in the red cloak, he could find penance in this chance accident.

Jake did not notice his presence until he stepped before him, and he looked up, blackened eyes blinking behind dirty and broken spectacles. The swelling, at least, had gone down, but that coloration would still stick around until it all came to an end.

“Who’s there?” He asked, his voice cracking. The man in the red cloak slowly knelt before him, reaching a hand into his cloak for the flask.

“A friend,” He said. His voice was an octave or two lower than Jake would know it, but there was still a spark of recognition in his face, and he flinched.

“Oh, bloody fuck nuggets-” He gasped.

“I’m not going to hit you, dude,” Said the man in the red cloak. He held the flask before Jake and swished the liquid inside. “Pretty sure you’ve been clocked enough times. Am I right, or am I right?”

The wonderful thing about Jake was that, no matter how suspicious something might appear or how frightened he might be, he always accepted a gesture of apparent kindness. His arms jerked as if to take the flask. “Um…”

Right, he was all tied up. “Oh. Sorry about that, English.” He opened the flask, the liquid inside fizzing to life, and he brought it to the boy’s lips. He tried to ignore the snide little voice in his head that wanted him to focus on the sorts of implications his actions held. It was mostly stupid quips about homosexuality that really weren’t worth his time, though perhaps he could trot them out later, when he wasn’t in such dire straights.

Jake drank slowly, obediently, never sputtering or spitting out the potion. That was just another thing so wonderful about him – he never could catch on when he was being tricked, especially when it was for his own good. When the flask was drained, he pulled it back from Jake, whose eyes had begun to fog over. His head lolled forward, and the man in the red cloak caught him, resting it on his shoulder.

“Hold out for just a little longer,” He said, “The minute you slip, your ass is grass. Nobody can convict you if you don’t say anything.” Jake could hear him, he was sure of it. After all, so long as things went accordingly, he knew what the coming days would bring, and he _would_ ensure all would go accordingly. “You’ve got some kinda crazy angel looking out for you, dude. She’s gonna ride in and save you like she’s wanted to all this time, and she’ll slap us all out of it along the way. Everyone’s gonna be okay.”

Jake shuddered once, and coughed into his shoulder. “J-Jane…”

A bit stilted, the man in the red cloak brought his arms around Jake. “That’s right, English. She’s on her way.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here we have my dear man behind the shadows making his moves. I think it's quite obvious who he is, he's gotten very brazen the closer Prospit's come on the horizon, but he's got to work like the devil's at his heels. The only thing he's got on his side is Time, after all.
> 
> Get ready for some more heavy stuff next chapter! Wish I could tell you when it'll be up...


	21. Queen

In hindsight, the Madame’s secret room was probably the best place to look for information, and the library a close second. But the Madame already suspected someone had broken her trust, and the library held too much for Jane’s panicked mind to parse. She had fled to her room instead, pulling book upon book from her collection and tossing them aside with increasing frustration as they proved to be utterly useless. She could not understand it. There were no records of previous kings and queens and courts, and what she could see of past battles seemed mere footnotes in history as opposed to the chapters that they surely could fill.

Could something like that happen to her someday, too? Could the Madame lock away every scrap of Jane in that room without a care? Was she really so expendable?

But she was jumping to conclusions with such thoughts, and without anything to back them up, they meant nothing. Jane craved an answer to the point of madness, her head dizzy and Life sizzling at her fingertips. When the bell for supper rang, she could not bring herself to leave her room. Instead, she wrapped herself in blankets and curled up on her bed, struggling against hot tears as her room lay in shambles.

When there was a knock at her door, she ignored it.

She groaned when there was a second.

The third was followed by a voice.

“Come on now,” It said, deep and rolling like ocean waves, “I know bargin’ in is all rude-like. Can’t you give a motherfucker a break?” There was a creak as someone leaned against the door. “We were all up and gettin’ our worry on when you didn’t show up for chow time. Everybody’s blood pusher got all fluttery and shit-”

Oh, if she didn’t stop him now, he would not stop trying to guilt her! “You can-” Jane hiccupped. “You can enter, please stop rubbing it in.”

The door opened to reveal Lord Gamzee Makara, ganglier than what was good for him and a tray of supper held in his hands. The only thing neat about him was his clownish face paint, which was, he had once told her during their many baking excursions, the only place where neatness ‘all up and mattered’.

“If I’d of kept goin’ I prob’ly woulda mosied on in anyway,” He said, shrugging quite casually, “Callie didn’t raise no fool, but, you know, I forget my manners sometimes-”

It took Gamzee a moment to realize the state of Jane’s bedroom, and it took him yet another moment to gauge the frustration that thickened the air. Slowly, for he always did things slowly, he set the supper tray down on Jane’s desk and approached. His face had slackened, as if he were a child and had just seen his parents cry for the very first time. A lazy, long-fingered hand carded through Jane’s hair.

“You okay, Little Princess?” He asked. Jane shrank from his touch.

“Please don’t do that, Lord Makara. We are not that familiar with each other.”

“Aw, come on now,” He said, “I told you more times’n I can count you don’t gotta be so motherfuckin’ formal!” Gamzee crouched down so his face was just about level with Jane’s as it rested on the bed. “You must be all up at some nasty place in your pan to miss chow time.”

“Lord Makara, _please_.”

He smiled, as if Jane had just done him some kind gesture. “Man, but I am all kinds of gettin’ that feel, I am on that page like a word any motherfucker could read!” Gamzee looked around at the mess. “I get some ways where I ain’t up at all and I’m way too down. Not even down _with_ nothin’, just plain old _down_. But just ‘cause I got down there doesn’t mean I can get back up all on my lonesome. I need help.” He propped his chin on Jane’s bed, and if she were in better spirits, she would have wrinkled her nose at the thought of the paint stain he would leave. “And I think you need some help, too.”

It really was sweet of Gamzee to offer his help, whatever it might be, and normally Jane would not mind a sympathetic ear. But nothing in Prospit was quite right, and if she raised her concern to just anyone, it was not hard to imagine that the Madame would catch wind. That Jane knew in the pit of her stomach, and that she absolutely could not risk. “I’m fine,” She said with a sigh, “Really. Unless you’ve got a detailed history of our ancestors in your pocket, there’s not much anybody can do.”

Gamzee’s eyes widened, and he took a sharp breath. “Aw, shit,” He said, his head rising from the bed, “What you just said there is some miraculous coincidence! I know the perfect motherfucker to take you to!”

Jane sat up immediately. He couldn’t be serious, could he? “Is that true?” She asked. Gamzee sprang to his feet, seemingly enlivened by her reaction.

“It’s truer than true – though, uh, you gotta keep that ancestral shit on the dee-el, Little Princess,” He added, “It’s technically one of the wickedest of heresies.”

“A heresy – Oh!!” Gamzee had casually wormed his arms underneath Jane, and with no effort at all he slung her over one shoulder like a sack of potatoes. “Put me DOWN, Lord Makara!!!”

“Yeeah, Callie don’t like us learnin’ about a buncha old crusty motherfuckers,” He continued, ignoring Jane’s command, “But ancestors is a troll thing, dig? You start climbin’ up beyond a Terecita type hue and it’s a big deal, lookin’ for footsteps you wanna fill someday. We just _gotta_ know! Can’t keep a troll from his hatchright, it just ain’t done.”

He left the room with Jane in tow and began to descend into the empty throne room. She clung to Gamzee and tried not to look down; he swayed as he walked, and the vertigo was unbearable. “So you have someone in the know, as it were?” She asked, taking care to whisper.

“In the know like a brother in the big top!” Gamzee said, his voice echoing down through the room. It was probably better, Jane thought, not to grill the clownish noble and hear what his ‘brother’ had to say.

Thankfully, they made it to the ground without any mishaps, and Gamzee whistled some jaunty tune as he brought her into the troll’s quarters. The sun had already set, and it was very dark, but Jane could still recognize Terezi’s sigil on one of the doors. He passed it without a glance for the other door, one with no sigil, but instead a worn part of wood where it had probably been painted and scrubbed off many times. With his free hand, Gamzee knocked upon it.

There was a great stomping on the other side, as if the person approaching were making a show of irritation, and the door opened quickly to reveal General Karkat Vantas. He was on the small side for a troll, barely Nepeta’s height with tiny horns, and he wore no color to speak of, all in black and white and grey. He had a pinch to his face and a finger raised, his tongue on the tip of a tirade, and then his eyes flicked over Gamzee’s nonchalance and Jane blinking down from his shoulder. Karkat drew black his finger, closed his eyes, and took a deep breath.

“No.”

Gamzee gave a forlorn honk that made Jane jump. “Aw, come on-”

“Don’t complain that I haven’t heard what it is you want, Gamzee, because I am not an imbecile, and I already know what it is.” Karkat reached for the door. “The last time you brought someone to me slung over your shoulder, Tavros didn’t leave me alone for three weeks. He kept asking me for advice on how to handle Vriska. Three _grubfucking_ weeks, Gamzee! Of advising Tavros Nitram on how to figure out whether or not the girl who repeatedly tries to push him down from the top of the stairs pities him or hates him, when it’s so obvious that he should keep his quadrants as far away from her as possible!” When he tried to shut the door, Gamzee braced his arm against it, and barely struggled as Karkat pushed back. “I’m not – nngh – I am NOT the ‘main squeeze’, as so aptly put outside the palace walls, of your creepy pale pimping operation!”

“But Karkat,” Gamzee said, leaning casually against the door, “You can’t find it in your pusher to spare a shooshpap for our Little Princess? Not even if she wants to get her know on about all the things we ain’t supposed to know?”

Karkat’s expression did not change, but he did stop attempting to squeeze the other troll between the door and its jam, and looked to Jane. “That’s a broad spectrum of supposedly forbidden fruits to choose from,” He said, “You’re going to have to be more specific, or like fuck I’m going to say anything. You’ve been tottering around on a Cherub high ever since you got here, I don’t trust a goddamn thing that comes out of your mouth.”

Well that was an interesting response. “For what it’s worth,” Jane said, “Lady Pyrope’s given me some of her incense, and true to her word, I have not thought clearer since before I arrived.” She tried not to squirm on Gamzee’s shoulder and met Karkat’s gaze, only hoping that hers matched his in intensity. “And I have reason to believe some…ancestral particulars are being kept from me by the Madame, kept from all of us. Whatever you don’t want her to know that you know, please believe me when I say that I’ll keep mum on the subject.”

Karkat stared at her for a long time, the cogs in his mind quite visibly working with the twitch of his jaw and the slight flare of his nostrils. Finally, he sighed.

“Let her down, I’ll take it from here.” And Gamzee did so, happily talking of how he had known Karkat would help, how Karkat always helped, and said troll waved him off. Jane was just glad to have her feet on the ground again. “Yeah, yeah, I get it okay? Go fondle your horns, now I’ve got two projects to handle, I hope you’re just positively ecstatic. Don’t tell anybody about this, okay? Keep your mouth shut, it could sink the goddamn unsinkable with how loose it is.”

“Can do for you,” Gamzee said, and with a lazy salute he parted from them, resuming his whistling and disappearing into the dark halls.

Before Jane could say a word, Karkat put a hand on her shoulder and pulled her into his room, closing the door with a slam. This room was much worse than Terezi’s had been, with piles of maps and documents and books that only the maker of the mess could surely parse. Posters for various stage productions papered the walls – most featuring, as they advertized, a fellow called ‘Troll Will Smith’. She was quickly guided to a table where a map of Prospit laid spread, and Karkat plunked her down before it. There were little tin figures spread strategically on its squares, though their significance was lost on her.

“Alright, look,” He said, moving to stand across from her. Briefly, Jane felt a pang of guilt. Did he not have any other chairs? “Like I said, I have something else on my plate right now, and while I’d usually find myself investing far too much time than is healthy in this sort of thing, I’ll have to ask you to make it quick.” He planted his palms on the edge of the table and glared down at her. “Exactly how clear are you thinking to want to know about the bullshittery of ancestry?”

It took Jane a moment to regain her composure. General Vantas made a show of his bark, but just how dire was his bite had yet to be proven. She took a deep breath and folded her hands, perching them carefully on the table so they did not jostle the tin figures. “I don’t know if you know,” She said, “And I wouldn’t blame you if you didn’t believe me, because frankly, before today I would have thought it unbelievable myself, but…I noticed something very peculiar.” She locked eyes with Karkat. “No one in Prospit ever speaks of past regimes. There seems to be very little record of them as well, and – well, I saw something that’s a little…you can’t repeat it to anyone, the door opened on its own and I was curious! I’m frightened to imagine what might happen if the Madame heard tell of it!”

“Then that makes two of us,” Karkat said. His expression had softened as she spoke, but it was still very wary. “Hurry up and spit it out, Crocker, I don’t have time to beat around the bush like a meowbeast-”

The name fell so easily from his lips that Jane almost thought it was right of him to call her Crocker, that he always had and always would. But she had barely talked to him before now, and that was not a name she had ever gone by. “Crocker?” She asked, her eyes narrowing, “Like Queen Crocker? The eleventh queen of Prospit?”

Karkat’s jaw dropped, and his hand twitched as if to move to cover his mouth. “How do you – wait, no, forget it, I didn’t say-”

“But you did!” The chair Jane sat in fell with a clatter, and she slammed her hands down on the table, mimicking Karkat’s stance perfectly. The tin figures wobbled, some falling down and scattering the others. “And that means you know, right? You know about the painting in the secret room! You know about the woman with my face, about all those old belongings! You know and you’ve got to tell me!” Her chest tightened with every word she spoke, and she paused to breathe. “I can’t take it anymore. It’s barely been a day and my head feels like it is splitting open. I want to know what it means, General Vantas. Tell me.”

As Jane had gone on, her posture only became more rigid, more commanding. Karkat’s had not changed, of course, but his face spoke volumes in widened eyes and a slight sheen of sweat on his brow. He swore something unintelligible under his shaky breath.

“You are fucking scary, you know that?” Before she could combat his quip, he spoke again. “Wait – I’ll, yeah. I’ll tell you want you want to know. Just – just don’t _yell_ at me again. Please don’t do that.”

“I wasn’t yelling.”

“Oh, believe me, if Calliope doesn’t break the door down demanding to know how the fuck you got into her little treasure trove of contraband in the next three minutes, I’ll take you out for a drink. That’s how loud you were, Your Grace.” The title sounded foreign on his tongue. With a sigh, Karkat slumped forward, his eyes on the map as he righted his tin figures. “Yes, I know about that painting. I know about everything in that secret room, I’m the bastard who stole the key to get in there in the first place and I lock it when I leave, but I’m guessing that if I ask how you got in I won’t like the answer. I think you noticed once you snapped to your senses that sense isn’t something everyone here is so privileged to be blessed with.” His eyes flickered up to hers briefly. “I’ll give you three guesses as to why that is.”

Jane’s brow furrowed. “It would be…it’d be the Madame herself, wouldn’t it?” She guessed. “Everything is calm and happy when she’s near, it’s like…it’s like nothing sad matters anymore.”

“Geez, when you put it like that, it actually sounds benevolent,” Karkat said. He looked to his map again. “But back to the point, it seems that your think pan can comprehend the fact that an entire government is being brainwashed. Well, obviously not all of it.” He placed a figure down with particular zeal. “Cherubs have never been able to get to Seers, from what I’ve learned. They can look right through that bullshit, so Terezi has her head screwed on right even when she’s being as bugfuck crazy as it’s possible to be.”

“You seem unaffected yourself, General,” Jane said.

“Yeah, well, I’m just seven layers of special that way,” Said Karkat with a grunt, “Comes with the territory of having a Seer living down the hall. I can’t imagine it’s fun to live with all she knows alone, so she decided, hey, why not break the nubby little freak out of his stupor so I can dump half of my work on him and complain about the same bullshit day in and day out.” He hooked a finger on one sleeve and pulled it up to reveal a bangle much like Jane had seen the others wear, only this one held no stone, but an empty space instead. “You know all those stupid rocks everyone wears? That’s part of it. They have…energy or some shit, I don’t know, and Calliope wears them too. Terezi thinks that’s how she can pinpoint her control, make it more than just a general good feeling and go straight into your head.”

Jane thought of all her larimar and shivered. She hadn’t put any on today, thank goodness, but now she certainly wouldn’t. And then, a thought occurred to her. “She controls our emotions, then, right? The Lord in Derse could do that too! And their nobles, they wore stones too, and…and my pendant!” The amber pendant, the one that had always warmed on its own…perhaps Jane had experienced those first waves of adoration because she had worn it? But perhaps it wasn’t as strong from a distance, or perhaps it did not work as well for her as larimar, for Jane had been able to overcome it! “So if there’s something the Madame wants us to do-”

“-She makes it happen,” Karkat finished, “Whether we want to or not. Hell, when we fought in that dumb skirmish and lost one of our Court for Nepeta, she tried to convince us that it never happened, and that Nepeta had always lived with us.”

Kanaya, he was talking about Kanaya, and from the way his face fell, it hurt him to explain what happened, even so briefly. “But why?” Jane asked. Everything hinged on that why, she could feel it. “I thought you didn’t have time to pussyfoot, but you’re doing it right now!”

“Hey, it’s really complicated, okay? You have to let me go through it step by step!” He stood up straight, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Like I said, I stole the key to that room, and I did it a long time ago. I’ve been sneaking into it ever since I was five sweeps old, taking out whatever scraps of information I could find about whatever it was Terezi wanted to know.” He began to gesture as he spoke, and it seemed to suit him, this little troll with so many words. “And when you’re five sweeps old, you want a role model, so she said, Karkat, I want to know about my ancestors. Go find me things about my ancestors. And I said, what the fuck am I to you, your errand boy? But I did it, and the more I got for her the more I found about everyone else’s ancestors. I think it’s a load of hoofbeast shit, but in a way, at least for nobility, it kind of makes sense, right? You want the same bloodlines in power to keep things stable.”

Quickly, he left the table for one of his mounds of clutter, and began to dig through it. “But as I was looking this all up, I noticed something. The birth dates of all the monarchs and the wriggling days of the nobility all seem to coincide with the death dates of their predecessors within a few days at the most. Now for humans that’s really strange, because you guys do that weird thing where you can carry your own young when you reach a certain age, and I’m pretty sure you can’t do that if you’re dead or haven’t hit that yet. On the troll side of things it’s trickier, because it’s completely possible for a descendant to be hatched thousands of sweeps after their ancestor has contributed their genes – if you don’t get it please don’t ask,” He said when Jane opened her mouth, “We’ll be here until morning, and it’s only a small piece of the mystery. The thing is, it’s highly unlikely for a descendant to be hatched conveniently in time for the ancestor to die. It’s bullshit, nothing is ever that perfect.” With a grunt, Karkat pulled a piece of paper from the pile, and he came to Jane’s side to show it to her. It was a time line of sorts, and recorded in various colored inks were the names and titles of the Prospitian Royalty and Court. They were all nestled together on the dates of birth, and then as the years went on, there would be the death of one or a few, and then the others would all die together soon after, leaving room for the next wave to be born.

“Your gander bulbs work, right?” Karkat asked, placing the paper in her hands, “Tell me what you see. Any patterns?”

Why was he asking her to look? He could just explain it himself. With a frown, Jane peered at the paper, her eyes making short work of the names. Slowly, as she read them and took in their colors, something clicked in her mind.

“There’s twelve birth dates here, and only eleven death dates . Everyone is listed by their surnames,” She said, her gaze catching onto cyan lettering, “And no matter who died before, whoever Crocker was always died on the last day…” She looked to Karkat. “And you think that’s me, right? I’m Crocker?”

“Crocker is always the human girl who can use the Art of Life,” He said, “Everyone’s surnames match up to an Art through the generations, too. So unless you can’t heal yourself, you’re definitely in Crocker’s place.”

A deep shiver rose up from Jane’s very core, and she felt her grip on the paper slacken. “So you found records of all this in the secret room?”

“Really awful ones, but yeah. I’ve spent sweeps piecing just this together. Literal sweeps.” Though he still seemed ornery and his words were clipped, there was something about the way Karkat moved that betrayed his excitement. He seemed to have pride in explaining all of this to someone new, in laying out all he had worked so hard to discover. “At first I didn’t get it. Why were these patterns here? They are entirely nonsensical, even a brain-dead, pan-rotted shitknocker could see that!” He paused, holding up a finger. “And then I found it.”

“Found what?” Jane asked.

“The most damning piece of information Calliope ever hid away,” Karkat said. He glanced around his room as if he expected someone to burst in at any moment. “I found a first-hand account of the days surrounding the death of the eleventh group on my list. It was written by their Crocker, it’s even admitted in the text!”

The Eleventh Crocker – that would be the woman in the painting, Jane thought. A chill washed over her at the thought of reading what its subject might have to say. “Can I see it?” Jane asked.

Karkat scoffed. “You think I keep it here?” He asked incredulously, “What kind of bulgelicking moron do you take me for? Nuh-uh, I hid that thing! It’s in the hands of someone I trust, where Calliope will never think to look!”

She felt her heart sink. “But I’ve got to read it for myself,” She said, “It’s not that I think you’re lying, General, but I want to see it with my own eyes. Whatever it is that’s going on, I’ve got to be sure I’ve got my sources right, or I can’t really do anything about it, can I?”

The General looked at her with a hard expression. Perhaps he still doubted that she could be trusted, and this hidden tome was the very last ace up his sleeve. Perhaps he was wondering just what it was that she could even do – not that Jane was sure of that herself. In the end, he sighed and crossed his arms, casting a forlorn look to his map, the figures still disheveled.

“Well, hell, I need a break,” He said gruffly, “And we’ve been at this for well over three minutes at least. I think I’ll actually take you out for that drink.”

~*~

Karkat had cloaked both himself and Jane in grey before they left the Palace that night, slipping through tight spaces and secret doors that the young General could navigate in the nigh impenetrable darkness. There was, it seemed, benefits to being a chosen assistant to a Seer, for soon they were beyond the palace walls and freer than Jane had been in a long, long time, and it was absolutely exhilarating.

The actual city was, for all intensive purposes, a very cheerful place. Though it was late and most people had retired to bed, the citizens they did pass all wore smiles as they went about their tasks, and always offered passers-by a friendly wave. Karkat had to drag Jane down the street a few times when some tried to converse with her.

“They’ll know who you are the moment they get a good look at you,” He hissed through his teeth, “And then we’ll be fucked. There will be nothing outrageous or creative about it, just us, being completely and utterly fucked.”

“General, _please_ ,” Jane whispered, her nose crinkling, “How crude!”

“Please yourself, Crocker, I could go on! I will go on, you’ve opened the floodgates! There is no stopping the unholy terror that is a Vantas with something to say!”

And he did go on, the whole way to the edge of the city, where the walls were most imposing and strong, and though he did so in hushed tones, many people still stopped to stare at them. It was a relief to see the ramshackle establishment before them, bearing the name Karkat had mouthed to her when she’d asked him for the third time just where he had expected to get a drink if not in the palace – the White Queen. The ‘WQ’ on its swinging sign painted in weathered gold was a big clue, of course, though Jane had not expected it to be quite as dilapidated as it was. Even the taverns in Derse had been better kept than this.

Karkat’s third euphemism for something Jane did not care to consider very hard died on his lips when he saw the building before them, and he cleared his throat. “Um, so…just let me do all the talking in here, okay?”

“You mean let you carry on as you were?”

“Yeah, that.” He put a stiff and awkward hand on her elbow, and when Jane did not shrug it off, he led her inside. “And, uh, stay close. No wandering off.”

“Uh-huh.”

“I mean it,” Karkat said. Jane rolled her eyes.

“I know you do.”

“But I don’t think you fathom just how serious I am about it.”

They entered the White Queen before Jane could volley another quip at him, and her attention was completely occupied. Despite its outward appearance, the inside was furnished relatively nicely, the chaises obviously worn but lovingly cared for and the lighting low, soothing. It was less a bar, like Jane assumed, and more like a club for gentlemen, classy and subdued. The colors were dark and reminiscent of Derse, and the tables and counter were all hard straight lines in shape and make. Behind the counter, glasses of all shapes and sizes and alcohol of all colors sat on display. There was even the mild scent of tobacco in the air. Jane wasn’t sure why, but there was a part of her that took an immediate shine to the place, as if it could imagine whittling away the evenings here now that she had the privilege. And, as luck would have it, they were the only patrons, for even the proprietors were absent for now. She lowered the hood of her cloak to take it all in.

“General Vantas,” Jane said, her voice soft in awe, “What a treasure you’ve kept hidden all this time!”

He snorted and whipped off his cloak, hanging it over his arm. “Can you blame me? A guy’s got to get away when his home’s nuttier than a nut creature’s hoard.” He cleared his throat again and raised his voice. “Hey! Are any of you nooksniffers home? You’ve got customers!”

There was a crash in the back and a groan of frustration before a door behind the counter was thrown open, jostling the glasses and bottles. Out came a man, his suit both impeccably clean and terribly disheveled. He had stubble on his chin and a hat upon his head, a patch over one eye and a sling about one arm. His mouth was open as if he were about to launch a retort towards Karkat’s words, and then he stopped, looking the pair over carefully with his good eye. Much like the General before him, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

“For fuck’s sake, kid,” He said, “I thought you learned all that good manners shit. You don’t gotta bait me to see me, you can _knock_.”

“Why bother act like a sane person when there’s never any in this sad excuse for a rumpus block,” Karkat drawled. He did not flinch at the man’s glare, but simply came forward, still leading Jane by the elbow. She held her cloak tighter around her. “And if you haven’t noticed, I have a guest with me today. I thought you were at least halfway respectable in the presence of women, Slick, God!”

The man called Slick looked to Jane. “Yeah, I noticed,” He said, “Thought I was seeing things. I never pegged you the human type, much less able to convince a dame to be seen with you in public.” Karkat’s mouth moved with strangled retorts and floundering gestures, while Jane frowned, entirely unimpressed. Slick’s mouth turned up in a sharklike grin, and he doffed his hat. He had jet black hair that had begun to thin in the back. “That bein’ said, ah, it ain’t too often we get a dame comin’ in. It’s a shame the wife’s out with her friends tonight, she makes a pretty kitty of a conversationalist! But what’s yammerin’ at you two gonna do, huh? You came here to have a good time!”

They had come for more than that, of course, but Karkat did not object when Slick ushered them to the counter, so Jane did not say as much. This place was much more the young General’s forte than hers, and for now she would defer to his judgment.

“Where’s the rest of your crew?” Karkat asked, begrudging and so obviously ruffled as they took seats at the counter. Slick shrugged, popping his hat back upon his head and slipping behind it, so only the smooth stone separated them.

“Out on business,” He said, taking down glasses with his good hand.

“What kind of business?” Jane asked. The grown man’s groan was like what a roll of the eyes might sound like.

“They’re makin’ daisy chains and flower crowns,” He said thickly, squatting down to retrieve something from below, “Girlie, you look like a smart cookie, so lemme ask you somethin’. What kind of business do you think four men in dark suits would conduct if they’ve got such an appealin’ front?”

“Well, I don’t want to assume-” Jane began, leaning over the counter to try and see him. Slick cackled, and out of the corner of her eye she could see Karkat fidget in his chair.

“Believe me, assumin’ wouldn’t be the worst thing that’s happened in the world,” Said their host as he rose. In his hand he held a bottle of some kind of syrup, and he poured a liberal amount into whatever he was preparing. “Me and my guys, we’re not the most upstandin’ folks you could say. The poor wifey, she gets so much blood outta my suits it ain’t even funny. But hey-” He pointed the neck of the bottle at his guests. “-At the end of the day, nobody’s gonna fuck with the Midnight Crew. If we want somethin’-” He tossed the bottle in the air and caught it, a piece of theatrics to punctuate his words. “-You’re sure as shit we’ll take it, and, well, let’s just say we leave a lot of broken heads in our wake to do it.”

Karkat had slunk down in his seat, a hand covering most of his face and his eyes closed tight. “A gang?” Jane whispered when Slick disappeared through the counter door again, “You left a royal artifact in the hands of a violent, thieving _gang_?”

“To be fair,” he said, pinching the bridge of his nose, “I kind of owe them. Remember how I said that Terezi snapped me out of that stupor everyone walks around in?” He asked, “She did that when we were really little, like three sweeps little, and she decided that overloading the new kid with all the things she had wiggled her way into knowing about was the best goddamn favor she could offer. Three sweeps old, and she brought me into town for the first time. We got separated. I got my dumb ass in trouble. The Crew got my dumb ass out of it, it’s way too long a story. And besides,” He said, opening his eyes, “How else does a kid who’d never heard a swear word in his life before learn how to steal important items from a Goddess without learning the trade?”

Jane felt her mouth hang open, just for a moment, before she could find her words. “So you feel indebted to them for taking you under their wing?”

He shrugged. “Well, that and Slick’s wife makes really great cookies.”

“But I still don’t understand. Why hide the journal here?”

“Because it’s safe,” Karkat said, “Slick and I have…I don’t know what you’d call it. An understanding I guess? We know who the other is, we don’t make our day jobs any harder than they have to be. He’s an irredeemable sack of douche who got real lucky that his wife even gives him the time of day, but when you have this guy’s trust, he’ll have your back. Like he said, nobody fucks with the Midnight Crew, and nobody gets their hands on what they have. And, in return…maybe I look the other way when cases come to me about stolen liquor shipments or the murder of Joe Schmo the Scumbag.”

“ _General!!_ ”

“ _What?_ He’s like a human Dad thing, okay? A human Dad thing that stabs people a lot, a, a stabdad, I don’t know!” That, of course, was when the door behind the counter opened up again, and Slick looked at his guests with an eyebrow raised and a carton in the crook of his arm.

“The fuck’re you two screamin’ about?” He asked, “And don’t say it’s for ice cream, neither of you asked for it and I’ve already got it.” Slick set the carton down on the counter with a sigh, ‘Vanilla’ written on its side in smudged ink. “Neither of you look of age, and I don’t want to deal with vomit tonight.”

What an odd thing to worry about! And here Jane thought the leader of a crew of thieves would be more lenient. Not that she wanted to complain, of course, for an actual drink would be almost intimidating. Slick grumbled as he scooped ice cream into their glasses, and Karkat leaned on the counter and watched with a sour expression. It was almost comical in a way, but brass tacks had to be gotten down to at some point. When the two filled glasses were set before them, Jane cleared her throat.

“Not to be a bother, Mister Slick,” She said, “But while I’m sure your frozen treats are divine, we did come here for other reasons.”

Two spoons were plunked down on the counter. “Yeah, yeah,” Slick said, “So then what is it I can do you for? If it’s a favor for the kid, I’ll do it. You need to call a hit on someone?”

“H-Hardly!” Jane pressed a hand to her chest in shock. “Gen – er, Karkat, he said he gave you an old book for safekeeping. It’s imperative that I read it!”

“Oh, well that ain’t nothin’!” Slick breathed a sigh of relief and turned back to the door. “I really thought I’d have to whack somebody for a second. That’s the only thing dames ever want out of a guy, you know?” He left the door open as he rooted around in the back, muttering and swearing until he returned, the book under his arm. It was a thin journal, its leather cover weathered and wrinkled and the rope that held it closed nearly falling to pieces. It seemed that someone had ripped out a large chunk of the contents, for part of the spine was exposed on the inside. As soon as it was placed on the counter Jane snatched it up, her eyes hungry for its contents.

“Are those coffee stains on the cover?” Karkat asked incredulously, pointing to a series of dark, sticky rings. Slick shrugged.

“Yeah, I’ve been usin’; it as a coaster.”

“What the fuck, I told you this was important! Why in all the festering circles of nookcrunching _hell_ would you use it as a _coaster_?”

Jane did not bother to roll her eyes as the two began to argue, because the first sentence had caught her attention immediately. The shape of the letters was very similar to those she penned herself, though she knew she had never written this:

**We have three days, you and I. But you are still young, and with youth comes possibility. I know you will have much more success in your lifetime than I in mine because of this fact.**

**Our situations are different only through the minute events that take place and the era they inhabit. I have seen the mirrored faces of my predecessors, their toils and struggles. They all met the same end, and such too awaits me. The Scratchlands loom dark around us. My family and my court trail behind in coffins. The Madame, bless her heart, she is trying to pretend we are only bringing them to a burial, but it is futile. Through their eyes I know where our journey will end.**

**I believe in the grand scheme of the planet that it only scratches the surface, but it is the closest I shall ever be to its center. I’ll be made to assist the Madame in laying my dears to rest here. The Lord, too, should be present – there is always another with him in the hazy memories of my foremothers. Not everyone is dead, not always, but the other is a constant, for we light the fire. It is stoked by Gods, and from it shall you rise. Not quite me, and not quite anything else before, but something wholly new, as it has been for generations; borne not from flesh, but from the earth and the very flames of Life.**

**It is to the Royal Forge which I travel. Deep in the mountain caverns more womb than stone, I shall die and you shall breathe and we will all rise again with marionette strings renewed. It is hard to believe, but it is our world, and I cannot leave it until some record survives for you.**

**I am old. Such a thing does not anger me, but it does sadden me. It hurts that I am just another face to crumble to ashes for a reason I cannot parse, and I desperately do not wish such a fate on you!**

**\- Queen Crocker XI of Prospit**

It could have ended there, but something had leaked through the back of the very last page, and Jane turned to it, unquenchable curiosity all that was left inside of her. The words were shaky and the ink blotched as if the writer had been in a hurry, but she could still make them out as if they were fresh on the page, and though she would never be able to explain why, they brought tears to her eyes. It was as if they were the very last hope and promise of the author:

**Of royal forge their hearts were fired**

**Hearts of silver, hearts of gold**

**Desolation’s bells have tolled**

**Our weary armies have retired**

**To crypt and tomb, for war is done**

**But peace shan’t rise on wing of dove**

**Until again two kingdoms love**

**‘Tween sunlit daughter and moonlit son**

~*~

There was little to be said of the rest of the time spent in the White Queen. It had grown late, and Karkat prompted their leave, a crease in his forehead at the sight of Jane’s reddened eyes. Slick had asked no questions and took the book back into his possession, slipping back through the door as they left. The establishment was just as quiet and empty as it had been when they arrived, and outside a misty drizzle began to fall, turning the streets into shimmering paths of silver. No one was about, and Jane did not bother with the hood of her cloak. When they passed streetlamps, water glistened in her hair like dew at sunrise. Her companion was silent, hands in his pockets, perhaps waiting for her to speak, but the words she had read laid heavy on her heart, and her head hurt in an effort to make sense of them.

Karkat coughed. “Did you, um…did you have fun at least?” He asked. “You seemed really into that book.” He flinched when he saw her shoulders shudder. “Uh, crap, forget I said that…geez, I’m sorry, what a colossal fuckup it was to bring you out here, I should’ve just told you what it said straight out-”

“I’m fine,” Jane said quietly. She pulled her cloak closer around her, and picked up her pace with a sigh. It would do them both a world of good to get out of the drizzle. “It’s just an awful lot to take in.”

The General did not hesitate to match her pace. “Well, just so you know,” He said, “And it’s incredibly pathetic to say so, but this has probably been the most fun I’ll have for a long while, and considering we didn’t really do anything of worth that sure is saying something.” He lifted a hand to run it through his hair. “These next three days are going to be awful for me.   
I’ve got so much shit to do it’s not even funny.”

The words made Jane stop in her tracks, and Karkat had gone three strides before he realized that she wasn’t walking with him anymore, and he turned on his heel to give her an odd look.

“Hey, what gives? We don’t have all night, Crocker-”

“What happens in three days?” Jane asked, her stomach filling with hot panic.

“What do you mean what happens? Does your pan leak? Roxy told everyone you came far enough for us to retrieve you by hitching a ride with the Dersite army. They’re about three days’ worth of travel away from storming the Palace!”

A cry of surprise came up from her throat. “How is that possible?! It took nearly a month just to get to the Scratchlands!” She exclaimed. The words from the book pained her more, now, squeezing every other thought from her mind.

“Yeah, well, you’ve been with us for almost that long, Your Grace, what did you think was going to happen?” Karkat threw his hands up into the air, clearly exasperated. “They’ve gotta be intent on trying to wreck our shit or they would’ve turned back by now! What did you think I had that map in my room out for, I was trying to plot a counter-attack!”

As he raged on about defenses and the questionable intelligence of monarchs, the wheels began to turn in Jane’s head. She hadn’t realized time had grown so short in her stupor, and it made her feel all the more foolish, but she made up for it now in spades. “The journal said that too,” She mused aloud, “Three days! ‘We have three days.’ She had three before dying, and I have three before…but how could she know if that was written so long ago? Unless…!”

Suddenly it was clear, as if the drizzle has moved on to leave a night sky full of stars behind. Jane hurried forward, ignoring Karkat’s shock as she grabbed one of his flailing hands. “The Eleventh Queen,” She said, “The Eleventh Crocker! She was a seer of some kind, she could – she could see Life! She could see where it would go and the kinds of patterns that popped up, she didn’t have to experience it to know what was happening! She wanted to warn us, to warn me, like she believed in us, that we could stop it…”

And the poem at the end. It had latched onto those imaginings of her childhood, of the Prince in his amethyst tower, but it had also tugged the strings of the memories she held now, of the pain in her heart for want of something more from Dirk and yet knowing she would get nothing, and even yet continuing to care so deeply for him. She thought of him now, ever approaching, more determined to punish her people with every step. She thought of his court, his family; her court, her family. She thought of those young dreamers and wanted to scream, for to the Cherubs they held so dear in both love and fear, those dreams meant nothing. They were something to pervert, to twist to machinations unknown, and it made her sick to realize it.

“We have to stop it,” Jane finally said. Her grip on Karkat slackened, and the drizzle began to grow in strength. “Whatever game the Madame and Lord are playing, they are using lives as the pieces over and over again. Royal lives, the lives of our people, none of it matters, and while we’re sitting on our bums thinking we’re doing right, we’re allowing them to do such a wrong to everyone. We’re like used tissues to them, but…” She shook her head, the rain now dampening and drooping her hear. “But we’re not! This has to end, here and now, and I’ll make it end no matter what I have to do! Even if I have to overthrow both Cherubs myself!!!”

Because, she thought, when all was said and done, it was not just Jake’s safety that meant so dearly to her, nor were the matters of Dirk’s heart the only thing that pained her. They all mattered to her, Jane realized, every troll from their toes to the tips of their horns, every girl and boy and woman and man, all that had lived and would lived and were living – they had a right to flourish or fail on their own terms, not those of Gods. Between Prospit and Derse lived twenty children who had been waiting for that opportunity, who deserved it, and who was Jane to deny them?

Karkat stood, transfixed as if some spirit had taken hold of Jane for that moment, strengthening her words into decrees. Truly, she had never felt more a Princess, standing tall and soaked in the rain with ferocious righteousness building within her. But perhaps she was more than just a Princess, now. Perhaps Jane was stepping up, and conducting herself as Queen.

Finally, the General found his voice, shaking the wonder from his expression in favor of feigned indifference. “And just how do you expect to do all that?” He asked.

“I haven’t a clue!” Jane proclaimed with a laugh. She held Karkat fast again, and with a jerk began to pull him along, racing towards the castle and ignoring his cry of protest. “I never seem to have a plan! But I have three days and I have you and Terezi, and I say there’s no reason we can’t try!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The alternate title for this chapter is "Hilarious Exposition Dump", but I kind of have a one word theme going.
> 
> So, uh...yeah. This is what I've been waiting to reveal this whole time! Sick and twisted cyclical reincarnation through Lifey powers. As for the why? Well, we'd have to ask Calliope or Caliborn that, but their time is coming...


	22. Blood

Living under caravan arrest was not much of a burden. Rose still ate the same stew as her peers, the contents growing more watery with each passing day. She was allowed books and small comforts of leisure, though her rapiers, and by extension the wands that had been fitted to serve as their handles, had been confiscated. Kanaya, her background well known by all, had been ordered to stay with her as well, more as fellow prisoner of course, but Rose took what she could get. And at the very least they could keep poor Jake company, even though he had clammed up as of late. It was a shame, really. She loved Kanaya dearly, but it was nice to have variety in conversations, and while the Princes of Derse did not shy away from their presence, they also did not bother to speak to them – not about anything she wanted to, anyway. She would go to speak with her peers, but, well. Caravan arrest and all that. It was very likely that they did not wish to see her anyway. That’s the sort of behavior one receives when they are perceived to be a traitor.

A light rain had persisted through the night, and upon seeing it when she awoke, Rose decided that it bored her. She longed to see the sun at least once more before they stormed the capitol of Prospit. It was there, just on the horizon, and probably beautiful and golden in the light, but under an overcast sky it was likely to be just as dreary as Derse.

“Are you going to comply with His Majesty’s orders?”

Rose, at the window of her caravan loft, did not turn to look at Kanaya, sitting primly on the edge of their now shared bed. The other had been made up neatly, and had not been touched since the day Jane left for the Scratchlands.

“I don’t see any reason to,” Rose said, “What he asks of me is impossible. I cannot see the future, Kanaya, only what the Light reveals of our fortunes.” She shook her head. “Besides, what I have seen for him is the best of fortunes we could ask for. In his current state, I doubt Dirk would agree.” But there was more to it than that. While concern was part of her reasoning, she had only gazed at Dirk’s fortune so long ago because he was to rule someday. Any young lady with ambition in life would want to know how their family fared, and would want to be ready in the event of a turn in the tides. The fact that his fate had been tied in such a way to Jane’s had to have been chance, and what a chance it was! To end Caliborn’s reign of fear was Rose’s goal, far above the plots of Derse and the petty spats of the nobles.

Kanaya sighed. “I know, Rose.”

“Dirk will only let me free if I do that for him, and he only wants me free so I can lead my troops again. They won’t listen to his orders for long, and he knows it.” She pressed a hand to the window. It was cool from the rain, and the world outside was misty. “So selfish. But I cannot really blame him. His actions are not quite his own.”

“But Dave has no excuse,” Kanaya said. Rose thought to their dear prisoner in the level below and nodded.

“At the very least it is proof he still has hold of his own will,” She said. “He would jump through all the epochs of time for his brother dearest. Roughing up someone he believes could make Dirk’s life difficult is how he shows that affection, though I will agree that it is a very twisted form of expression.” Rose left the window in favor of the bed, slowly sitting beside Kanaya so she could take those tightening hands into hers. A blonde head lulled against a shoulder clad in black. “How I tire of it all,” She said. Kanaya sighed, and her shoulder sagged.

“You are not the only one, My Lady.”

A smile came upon Rose’s face, a true one full of warmth. She had not smiled like that in a long time, and it almost hurt to do so, but she did not dare let it falter. “We are alone, Kanaya. Whatever happened to calling me your Rosebud?”

The troll glowed a soft white, her cheeks flushing emerald green. “It was _one_ time, and a slip of the tongue at that! You were being _very_ distracting!”

“Hmmm.” It was so tempting to turn her head and press a kiss to Kanaya’s neck. It was right there, soft and inviting. Usually such a situation would be reversed, and it had been necessary to pass off some marks as some very strange hickeys, but it could be interesting to play around this way too. Not now, though. Maybe another day. “You could say that about a lot of things, _ma chérie_.”

Kanaya stilled, her eyes going wide. “Is that the language of the French humans?” She asked. Rose smirked.

“ _Tu es ma sylphide, ma vie en rose_ ,” She continued, and felt pride at the shiver that ran through her lover. “ _Oui_ , Kanaya, it is the language of the French humans.” She turned her head just slightly, barely a nuzzle against a pale collarbone. Kanaya gulped.

“I do enjoy hearing you speak it,” She whispered. Her hands finally relaxed, and her fingertips slipped out of Rose’s grasp to slowly creep up the Duchess’s arms. “Please, do go on.”

Rose turned fully now, pressing her lips to Kanaya’s neck and waggling her eyebrows just a bit. Kanaya must have seen it, for giggles broke her gasp. “I don’t intend to stop.”

Their ministrations, while tender, did not last for long, for below them a door slammed hard enough to shake the entire caravan. The pair jerked apart, both sporting reddened cheeks and shy smiles, their fingers still intertwined. It was a pounding against the loft’s trapdoor that truly startled them, and reluctantly their fingers pulled away. Without prompt or tact the door opened, and Dave’s head rose up to peer at them. His spectacles obscured his eyes as always, but there was a set to his jaw that betrayed his displeasure. Rose widened her eyes in feigned surprise.

“Why, Davey Dearest, what’s brought you to sink so low? Surely you don’t seek the company of traitorous scum such as ourselves.” She took enjoyment out of how his jaw twitched; if he could feel no remorse in disturbing her personal business, she would do the same by twisting the knife of his irritation.

With a scoff, Dave tossed a folded piece of paper into the room, turning away as it skittered to Rose’s feet. “Two dudes rode up from Prospit like their asses were on fire,” He said, “A tiny dude and a huge brute. I was told my kneecaps would be broken via beating with a bull penis cane if I didn’t pass on a message.”

Kanaya’s eyebrows shot up, and she leaned forward to get a better look at him. “A…bull penis cane?” She asked. Every word was stressed, every syllable crisp on her tongue. Even the most ridiculous of things could sound lovely if Kanaya said it, Rose thought, though she would of course acknowledge that she might have a bias if asked.

“It is literally made out of bull penises,” Dave said. “The big guy made absolutely sure I saw every single goddamn phallic inch of it all up close and personal. So I thought, eh, between getting pounded by raging hard cocks or spending a fleeting moment with my backstabbing cousin and her beaver hungry concubine, the latter is the lesser of two evils.”

Rose tensed. He did so think he was in top form today, didn’t he? She leaned down and picked up the paper, cooly noting the seal of Prospit on the wax that had once held it closed. Someone had been looking through her mail, it seemed. “Oh come now,” She said, sliding a thumb under the flap, “At the very least you would fit in with an assembly of insufferable pricks, and get some sort of attention. With us you stick out like a lonely and frustrated teenage boy with his Willie unwetted.” She quirked an eyebrow and the corner of her mouth. “Which is, underneath all the pomp and princely circumstance, all that you are.”

Dave grit his teeth as she opened the paper, her eyes alighting on the contents. “I said you were the lesser of two evils, not my ‘boon of salvation’, as I’m sure you’d put it.”

“Please, Sir Dave, you were asking for that innuendo the moment such a nonsensical weapon was mentioned.” She sensed Kanaya at her shoulder, and she held the paper to her so she could read it as well. “What an interesting proposition. I assume you know this letter’s contents?”

“Like hell I do. Bro read it though,” He added, “And I don’t fuckin’ blame him. Shit coming for _you_ from Prospit? After what you’ve done? I don’t even gotta say how sketch that is.”

She hummed in agreement, watching Kanaya’s brow scrunch in concentration as she read the message. “What a kindness it was for him to allow it to me. Though I’m sure he did not mean it as such at all. You may tell him I shall comply, for the wound it will leave will surely please him.”

Kanaya’s head jerked up. “My Lady-”

“Comply with what?” Dave asked. “Come on, you can at least tell me that. I hate not understanding the passive-aggressive bullshit that you two throw around, why can’t you just crudely insult each other like normal people?”

“Now that would be far too pedestrian,” Rose said. “Those two fellows from Prospit are messengers for the throne. It seems that the heads of state wish for their dear Lady Maryam to return to them before we knock upon their door, and they are offering Lady Leijon in exchange. They will wait for us further up until the sun sets, and if by then we do not arrive, their offer will be void.”

“My Lady-” Kanaya tried again, a desperate note to her tone, but Dave whistled before she could continue.

“And you’re going to let them make off with your girl? For shame, Lalonde. Put up a fight for fuck’s sake.”

“Like I said, the fact that the offer reached me at all is quite obviously a blow disguised as a kindness.” She looked down at the paper in her hands. No doubt Dirk noticed something off about it, though what he could discern and what she spotted immediately had to be two completely different things. “He would have ignored it if he did not think it was a fitting punishment for insubordination. And who knows? I might not get the choice next time.” Rose did not dare look to Kanaya. She couldn’t find the courage to face whatever expression her companion wore, and for this she must have courage. “Besides, perhaps this is his way of offering an alternate concession. No doubt he knows he shall need my assistance in the days to come.”

Dave shrugged, his shoulders barely visible above the loft’s floor. “Well search me. I’ll let him know you’re down with it, and I’m sure he’ll let you know in person just what that’s gonna mean for you, but by then I’ll be long gone, and by long gone, I mean hiding out in Aradia’s caravan until all this has blown over like a house some dumb fuck from the bottom of the barrel made out of straw.”

He drew a breath as if to launch into another tumbling metaphor, as if things had not changed in the slightest, but he simply looked to Rose once more and ducked below. When the door closed with a snap, Kanaya grabbed Rose’s hands with an insistence that she had never shown before, the paper crumpling between them.

“Rose…” She moved her head so that it was in the Duchess’s line of sight. There was a terrible need to understand in Kanaya’s eyes, a hint of hurt and a smattering of confusion. “Why would you say that? Why would you even consider it-”

“Kanaya.” Though she was loathe to do it, Rose pulled her hands from Kanaya’s grasp and smoothed out the paper. “Did you read the message? Did you read it carefully?”

“I read it-”

“But did you notice? There’s a code here.” She tapped the words, written for the most part in sharp teal. Every so often, though, a letter would be lighter, as if the pen that had written it had a bit of a hiccup in its ink. “The darker letters are meaningless. The lighter letters spell out something else, a word in each line.” She let her finger glide along each line, reading the secret message aloud. “It says, ‘I have a plan. Need Kanaya’s help. From, Jane’. The note is obviously not penned by her hand, but whoever did so for her has to be someone she trusts, so she has support in this supposed plan.” She folded the paper back up again, running her thumbnail along the edges to make sharp, crisp lines. “Even if we’re in this sort of situation right now, even if things come to be the darkest they’ve ever been, it will only serve to make the dawn that much brighter. I think we should take a chance on this plan of hers, show her that we have faith in it.”

There was a hand at her chin, and Kanaya lifted her head so they stared each other in the eyes. One set was dry, frustratingly so. The other was wet, but not quite ready to spill emerald tears.

“But we don’t know what this plan is for,” Kanaya said, “And don’t my feelings matter? What if I don’t want to leave you? I want to go home, but not like this – not if I will have to come to oppose you!”

Rose closed her eyes. Truth be told, she did not want to send Kanaya away at all. She wanted to keep her close for as long as she could, to never let her go. This troll, this dear victim of circumstance who had as much right as she to hold her own, had become her closest friend and confidant. There was more that held them together than just kisses stolen in the shadows. There was growing up, and sadness and comfort and the cold days in dreary weather where they could sit together and watch the world pass by the little townhouse before the castle; there were secrets shared and made, and nights that glowed like red hot coals.

She took a deep breath and wished that she could simply fall back onto the bed. “I do not think we will ever truly oppose each other, even if we are on two different sides,” Rose said. She held herself upright against her fatigue, willing her strength to last. “And we certainly will not know what Jane plans, or why Jane plans, unless we offer her our trust, now will we?”

Rose would offer to divine this path for Kanaya, to give her absolute assurance, but she knew it was not the smartest of plans. There was always the chance, after all, of something going horribly wrong, whether through fate’s design or if she tried to stop it.

There were some things better left unknown. Even a Seer knew that.

~*~

True to their word, the messengers from Prospit had waited for their arrival about a two hours’ ride from their camp. There was indeed a little man and a large brute, the latter silent and imposing and the former as bright as the sun, chatting away about whatever struck his fancy and with a strange cane at his side. Along with them were two more figures – one clad in a grey cloak with their head covered and bowed, who Rose assumed to be Nepeta, and another on her horse who surveyed the approaching Dersites with a red spectacled gaze and a wicked grin. Her clothes were quite fine, including a long shirt with a high, buttoned collar made of teal and red brocade and loose black pants tucked into the tops of her impeccably clean white boots. She met Rose’s eyes when they drew near, her grin spreading, and in an instant she knew who this was. One did not forget a mind met in trance so easily. Oh, if Dirk had allowed her those wands before she left, the things she would do!

The exchange itself was brief, barely befitting the kind of farewell Kanaya deserved. Rose contented herself with a brief brush of the hand before the little man came to guide her away, tipping his hat up with his cane and doing his best to be congenial. In return, the Prospitian Seer led Nepeta onward by bound wrists. When the two groups passed, Kanaya’s head lifted, and she stared long and hard at the hooded troll, her face growing pale. She made to reach out, perhaps to tug the cape away from the form, but the little man pulled her further forward, and all she could do was look forlornly back between the other troll and Rose, as if she was not sure who between them she would miss the most.

Now that, Rose thought, was something odd indeed.

She did not bother to exchange words with the Seer, and the Seer did not have words for her, just a grin like a sharpened blade and a  cackle that would make weaker folks shake in their boots. The groups parted with their new members in silence, but there was something to the air, something that felt like so much had gone unsaid, and yet understood.

Rose was a clever young woman. She did not know why exactly, nor how it worked into Jane’s plan, but as she made for the war camp with her new companion, she could tell in footstep and in breath that the troll beside her was no Nepeta.

~*~

“I may have given the okay for her to come back, but like hell I want her around me.” Dirk had not even turned from his maps to acknowledge Rose’s return, which was absolutely rude and only made the inevitable all the easier. “Give Nepeta to Zahhak. I already told him to expect her, so he’ll know what to do.” The troll that was not Nepeta did not protest or shiver. He or she must not have known what they were in for.

As Rose led the hooded troll to Equius’s caravan, the other nobles took notice of the new figure among their ranks. One by one they began to follow, until what came to the blue caravan’s door was a veritable procession, four nobles always a few feet away from the hooded troll and the Duchess that led them. Before she could knock, the door was opened, and Equius peered out at his peers. His gaze raked over each troll with care and lingered upon the hooded one before he turned to Rose.

“Well?” He asked, “Where is Nepeta?”

“Do you not have eyes, Lord Zahhak?” Rose asked. She tugged the hooded figure forward. “I believe his Majesty informed you that I would bring her.”

Equius nodded curtly. “Indeed he did. But I think you forget that Nepeta is my moirail, and by extension, I would know her from any other troll, obscured or not. For you to insist that _this_ …” He gestured to the troll, his nose wrinkling and sweat beading on his brow. “Could ever be Nepeta, then I do believe that it is you who does not have eyes. Or, perhaps, you think me foolish, and are attempting some nefarious scheme? As a sympathizer of Prospit, I would not put it past you.”

There was a soft gasp from the nobles behind them, and Rose thought she might have caught a muttered ‘Oh _thnap_ ,’ from Sollux. Her grip on the rope that bound the hooded figure tightened. “It almost sounds as if you’ve been bitten by the bug of paranoia, Lord Zahhak. Have you, perhaps, been taken in by the heated ranting of our dear Crown Prince-”

Equius slammed a fist into the frame of his door, and everyone flinched at how easily the wood cracked from his blow. He shook now, and no one needed to see his eyes to know that their gaze blazed. “How _dare_ you,” Equius said, his words hissing through his teeth, “How…dare you! To suggest that one such as myself…could become so blind with pride that I would mistake another for my…” He could not bring himself to continue, the words stuck in his throat. The fact that he could speak to Rose with such open contempt without letting his usual issues with authority interfere was a feat within itself, and perhaps she had underestimated the strength a troll’s quadrants could hold.

With a sudden jerk the rope was torn from Rose’s hands, and the hooded figure was pulled into the caravan with a strangled yelp. She immediately followed after them, and the other nobles poured into the caravan behind her, just as startled as she.

As big as his talk had been, it seemed that Lord Zahhak could be blinded by rage, if it was onset by a broken promise of reunion – though the fact that he had chosen to take it out on the newcomer and not on Rose spoke volumes of how it only extended so far. When Equius had taken the rope, he had pulled the figure inside and released it only when he was sure they would hit the far side of the caravan, and hit it they did, the entire structure shaking. He ignored the spectators behind him to approach the mysterious troll, the hood still in place.

He did not get very far. As quick as Equius’s own assault, the troll snapped to attention, their teeth bared in a snarl, and they lunged forward. From under the cloak came a sickle, the metal tempered a brilliant gold. Before Equius had time to react, the smaller troll had him flat on his back, the curved blade at his neck and his spectacles knocked askew.

The hooded troll let out a hard snort when Equius glared at him. “Try that again,” They said, the voice gruff and strained, “And I’ll slit your goddamn throat. I was told you guys were nuts, not fucking _homicidal_!”

In a moment there were weapons drawn and pointed at the hooded troll’s back; a whip ready to uncoil, a hand crackling with red and blue psiionics, the tip of a rifle, the tines of a trident. The hooded troll did not flinch at them, though from the movement of their head, the weapons were acknowledged. Rose stood and watched, closing the door behind her.

“Well?” The cloaked figure asked. “I’m waiting for you to prove me wrong here!”

“We’re kind of waiting for you to get off of Equius,” Aradia said.

“And who told you anything about _uth_?” Sollux asked, “You’re from Prothpit, right? Nobody ith thuppothed to know a thing about uth over there!”

The figure snorted, turning its head towards Sollux. “Oh my God, you have got to be shitting me. Who decided to teach the doltshit with two sets of horns how to talk with marbles shoved down his protein chute?”

There was a crackle and a flash of psiionics, and the figure’s hood flew back. The face underneath was none that any of them had ever seen before, just as young as theirs with bared bluntish teeth and little nub horns, with eyes that narrowed and a brow furrowed in concentration. There was a spot of matted hair on the crown of his head, and blood had begun to roll down his neck and forehead, the droplets like liquid ruby.

Well, thought Rose as the others around him balked, that wasn’t a blood color you saw on a troll every day.

“Oh my cod, he’s red!” Feferi gasped, making to leap onto the his’s back. Eridan dropped his rifle and grabbed his moirail ‘round the middle.

“Fef, no, don’t touch the mutant! W-what if it’s riddled with diseases?!”

“But he’s so cute! I wanna cuttle him, lemme cuttle him!!”

That was what earned the seadwellers a glare, and the bleeding troll lifted his sickle to point it at them. “Look, I don’t give a flying fuck what you assholes think of me or my blood, but say you want to cuddle me one more time, I dare you, I double woofbeast dare you motherfu – AUGH!!!”

The moment of distraction was just enough for Equius to gain the upper hand. He flipped the troll over and rolled on top of him, leaning his weight onto the other troll’s shoulders. The troll writhed in his grasp.

“Ow, ow, fuck,” He groaned, “G-Get the hell off of me, you sweaty freak! I’m not trying to get between you and your moirail or anything, I just – Jane needs your guys’ help!!”

The Derse nobles stilled, their faces flickering with emotion. They each had their own feelings about Jane, of course, for how could you not come to think something of someone you spent so much time traveling with, who had found a way to make her voice loud and heard? The troll took his chance at their silence.

“My name is Karkat Vantas,” He said. The blood on his forehead had rolled into his eye, and he swore under his breath and tried to blink it away. “I’m the General of the Prospitian Army and one of four people in the entire palace who has any idea that your forces are coming to hand us our collective shame globes. You don’t need to tell me that standing in for a participant of a prisoner switch was a dumb idea, because believe me, if my bulgerotted genes would just get it together and let me have the growth spurt I am so rightfully due, there’s no way I would be small enough to pass off as Nepeta in a cloak. But it’s just my _luck_ that I do, and that what Jane would like to ask, through me, makes my knowledge and position in your hands as good as one inflatable buoyant sleeve on the arm of some dumbass in the middle of the ocean in a hurricane.”

His words rang in everyone’s ears, and it took the listeners a moment to realize that he had stopped talking. It was impressive for a fellow who probably had a concussion.

Aradia cleared her throat, her hands fiddling with her whip. “So…what was it Jane wanted to-”

“That is not something we should care about,” Equius said, cutting her off. Aradia frowned as he continued. “Neigh, Lady Megido, it should be the furthest thing from our minds. All Prospit could ever want was our destruction…” He bowed his head, his hair obscuring his expression to all but Karkat. “Any hand of friendship she extended…was a lie. The Lord of Lords himself confirms it if we ask; all she ever wanted was our Prince in her clutches.”

“That’s a lie!”

It took a moment for Rose to realize that the trolls had turned to her because it was she who had cried out. The one called Karkat in particular looked her in the eye, at once beseeching and disgusted. Despite his stature, he must have had an awful lot of pride to speak as he did, and to ask for help at all was most likely an insult to him. She cleared her throat.

“…Do forgive my outburst. That is to say, the five of you may have held an amiable opinion of Jane, but none of you had gotten the chance to know her as I have.” That cool smile came so easily to Rose, and she used it to her advantage. “After all, I admit it readily that I assisted the Princess of Prospit. I did little I could do to allow her access to her only family, whom as we speak is held prisoner in the Royal Caravan and is not quite right in the head. Dirk was never Jane’s target. She had undergone this arduous journey and put up with your eccentricities all for Jake English’s welfare. As the one who helped her, who would know this better than I?”

Karkat breathed a pained sigh of relief. “Oh, good,” He said, “There’s someone with an iota of intelligence in this regime. Tell me, as the only human in the room, what are your thoughts on toppling two green skeletons with their gargantuan egos permanently lodged up their nooks?”

Rose ignored the surprised looks on her peers’ faces. “As the Seer of Derse,” She said, “I am not under the sway of Cherubs. But it would be a lie to say that I think everyone else should be.”

“The fuck’re you thaying?” Sollux asked. His psiionics had died to a soft glow and fizzing, for his bewilderment had broken his concentration. “Nobody’th controlling uth. What good ith overthrowing the Cherubth? They’re _Godth_ , shit for brainth, it ithn’t eathy to get them to fuck off to begin with!”

“Am I being lectured by the _lithping_ pan stain?” Karkat groaned, “For real? When he probably pisses his pants the minute his Lordship throws a temper tantrum like a wiggler without an oral soothing device? Don’t tell me I gotta schoolfeed a whole pack of idiots-”

A mouth came down and covered Karkat’s mid-sentence, and his rant became angry and muffled as he glared up at Aradia, who had knelt down to stop his tirade. She looked to Equius, whose focus had shifted to her immediately, his eyes wide with surprise. Aradia smiled amiably, and offered him his forgotten spectacles.

“I think we should listen to what General Vantas has to say,” She began. Her eyes fell on each of her peers in turn. “I mean…if you put aside all this Prospit and Derse stuff, I don’t think any of us had a problem with Jane. She never made who she was a big deal, and she was always working to get better at being part of our group. Maybe she wanted to ask for our help regarding Jake, whatever his problem might be. I don’t think she lied when she said she used to work for Lord Caliborn, and despite how we may feel about him…” She turned to Rose, her kind smile falling upon the Duchess for the first time. “I think we know, deep down, what he does to us besides make a huge mess for us to clean up. We just don’t think about it, and we’re too scared to really say it aloud. Who’s to say that his actions don’t call for us to take him out?”

Sollux shrugged. “Look, ath long ath he doethn’t inthult how I talk anymore…if you wanna give thith KK guy a try, AA, I’ll thide with you.”

“I wanna hear what Karcrab has to say!” Feferi exclaimed, finally wiggling out of Eridan’s grasp, “It seems like it’s not so shrimple, but I’m sure if he explains, it’ll be as crystal clear as the sea!”

Eridan sighed, rubbing circles into one of his temples. “W-Well…if Fef w-wants to hear him out, I guess it’s w-worth a shot. Ewen if he’s probly the dirtiest piece a landw-wellin’ scum I ewer laid my oculars on.”

And so it was Equius who was the last to speak up, his focus still locked onto Karkat. Perhaps he thought that if he could concentrate enough, the small troll beneath him would become his moirail, and whatever was happening could cease unfurling all that he knew. But there was only so long one could hope, and eventually he released Karkat, leaning back and taking his spectacles from Aradia with a slight nod of thanks.

“I suppose,” He said carefully, “If there is…evidence…that what you claim is true, and that whatever this request of Jane’s is will ensure my moirail’s safe return, then…” Equius slid his spectacles back onto his face, and his mouth twitched as if he wanted to smile. “Perhaps it will prove prudent to…neigh, it will behoove us…to lend an ear to the words of such a…brazen and brutish mutant.”

Karkat bristled visibly at the words, but he sat up and did not falter in his response. “Yeah, yeah, I get it, you all think I’m a freak. Thanks for that welcome.” The other trolls flinched when he made a flippant gesture with the hand that still held his sickle. “We can go over the particulars of just what sort of abomination I am over hot leaf juice and cookies when everything’s taken care of, but for now, before I get down to business, it’s quite evident that I have the wonderful honor of getting you dimwitted fuckasses up to speed. How about everybody sits down while good old General Vantas tells you a coontime story, alright? And then he’ll tell you the sad sorry truth that is the half-baked plottings of Jane Crocker, and _then_ you can ask questions and grace me with the sickeningly sweet rituals of introductions. How’s that sound?”

With the air and grace befitting her station, Rose lowered herself to sit on the floor. “Oh please, General Vantas,” She said, “Do go on.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heavy exposition and a little bit of humor in this chapter, as well as, you know, some cray tension.
> 
> The climax is coming, guys. It should be two parts, and it starts...next chapter.


	23. Conviction

The crash of the waves soothed Jane, the sand beneath her cool and the body leaning against hers startlingly warm. Even on an overcast day the shore could offer peace, and Jane felt as if this moment had been long deserved. She felt all the tension in her body melt away, every worry shrink into insignificance. The tightening in her chest was gone, and she could feel herself lighten as she spoke aloud, her companion listening with rapt attention.

“I’ve been wondering about him all this time,” She said, running her fingers idly through the sand, “I’m certain he hates me for what I’ve done…and if that’s the case, then there’s no use in troubling myself like this. But I can’t help it!”

“Can’t help what, exactly?” Her companion asked. It was definitely a he, and she could feel his chest rumble as he spoke, but she could not place the voice. It was so very familiar, too, as if there were a time when she heard it every day.

Jane sighed. “Caring about him. Hoping he’s alright. He’s done so much for me out of everyone I’ve met, and I couldn’t see a reason. I mean a real reason, not any of that puppetry tomfoolery. I’d like to think that, at some point, he began to do it just to be kind.” Slowly, she wrapped her arms underneath her knees and pulled them to her chest. “Because isn’t that what friends do? Believe the best of each other?”

She felt him shrug. “Makes sense to me. But I thought you were pining a bit past friendliness. I hear love’s the kind of thing that blinds, you might need an eye exam.”

“Oh, hush!” Jane said, and she reached back to give her companion a light smack. He chuckled, and her cheeks reddened. “There’s still friendship in things like that, you know!”

“And how are you sure? You ever been in love before now?”

“Of course not!” She huffed, pressing a cheek to her knees and closing her eyes, letting the roar of the ocean fill her. “I’m just…going off of how I feel, that’s all. And I feel that he’s my friend through and through, even if he hates me and even if I…even if I wouldn’t be opposed to sitting as close to him as we’re sitting now. But even that feels like I’m pushing my luck. I know he doesn’t feel that way about me, and I doubt he ever will. I would be happy just to have him in my life exactly how he is.”

Her companion took a deep breath, shifted a bit against her. “And I expected a Princess to be selfish,” He said. She snorted.

“I expected a Prince to simply be a Prince, and not a person,” She said, “I was proven wrong. Why can’t you be wrong, too?”

He laughed at that and nudged her shoulder. “Being wrong isn’t my style. But I think I could concede this one time. It is highly possible that I may have underestimated you, Miss Jane.”

It was the title that made Jane’s eyes snap open, the words and her companion’s voice finally falling into place. She turned to where the warmth fell upon her back, but there was no one there, and nothing but an endless expanse of coastline. Her heart leapt into her throat when he spoke again, with a voice so close that she could feel his breath on her ear, warm and smelling of citrus.

“Don’t tell me you’re waking up already,” He said. Jane turned, but still there was nothing, and she let out a cry of frustration.

“What are you talking about? What’s going on-”

“I suppose it’s about time for you to,” He continued, words at her ear again. She nearly whipped around to try and spot him, but she thought better of it, and instead reached back and grabbed him by the arm. He did not pull away. “Big day ahead, right? Today’s the day you fix everything, or try to at least.”

That was right. The war march – the Dersites would be less than a day away, and she had a plan to set into motion. Jane’s grip tightened.

“Let me see you,” She said, “I haven’t a clue what you’re on about, but won’t you let me see you just once?” The world around her dimmed as a clawing pain rose in her chest. “Won’t you spare me that kindness?”

He sighed, and wiggled his arm until it was his hand Jane held. “I ain’t going anywhere. Turn around.”

She did, and for a brief moment the shore was bright, the waves at their loudest and the air sharp enough to sting. It was Dirk who looked back at her, without his spectacles and half a smile on his face. The pain in her chest intensified, and Jane pressed her free hand into her mouth, muffling a long, high-pitched groan as her face flushed.

The hand in hers tightened, and his smile faltered. “Whoa, hold on,” He said, “You’re dreaming, Jane. This is a dream, and I’m a dream Dirk, okay? I’m all in your head. Don’t panic.”

The absurd thing about it all was that Dirk was the kind of person who would say such a thing in a dream, where nothing made sense as the real world slowly tried to drag her back. With every keen from Jane, the darkness ate away the little world. “O-Oh, God! I can’t believe I – and I never realized – I’m so sorry!!!”

“For what, being honest?” He leaned forward and pressed their foreheads together, ignoring how red Jane’s cheeks became. “Dude, you’re allowed to be honest in a dream. I’m not some evil boogeyman living under your bed, I’m not going to make this into some nightmare. Besides, it’s not like it’s real, and…oh, wow, you got warm really fast. Are you sick?”

The last bit sounded different, as if someone else had said it, and the forehead upon hers felt much more like a hand. Dirk’s mouth still moved, but whatever he said was lost on Jane as she rose to consciousness.

The first thing Jane noticed was the thick, cloying scent of incense in her room. The second was the bony hand of the Seer of Prospit lingering on her forehead, and she groaned and turned away, still held captive by the shivering flutters in her stomach. There was a huff above her, and a hand grabbed her chin and jerked her head back.

“Stop fussing, Your Grace,” Terezi said. It was still dark, and Jane’s eyes were too bleary to discern anything, but the troll’s teeth were a frightening white smear on her vision. “We both agreed you need to wake up now to be ready in time, and if you don’t get up now, I swear I will go back to my slime and sleep through the sacking of your Palace without a second thought-”

Jane blinked until her vision began to clear, and she pulled herself out of Terezi’s grasp. “Please, Lady Pyrope, it’s too early for your meticulous rambling-”

“You’re damn right it is! The sun isn’t even up!”

Jane winced at the troll’s voice and rolled out of bed. When Terezi began to help her out of her sleep clothes, she did not protest. While these three days had been long and arduous, filled with planning and scheming and far too much coffee to be healthy, Jane’s mind still floated in the realm of her dream, of the shore and the warmth and half a smile. The burning in her cheeks wouldn’t fade away any time soon.

As the first golden fingers of the dawn began to reach up over the horizon, Jane began to do up her own clothes. They were nothing like the cumbersome dresses the Madame had filled her wardrobe with; it had been Slick’s wife who had made them for Jane, a fair and petite woman called Miss Paint. There were white stockings and grey breeches; there was a crisp white shirt with a high buttoned collar and puffy sleeves, and a sash made from her very sheets, which had been gladly supplied when the sweet woman had been in need of fabric. The very last think she put on was a set of red, red boots. Miss Paint hadn’t made them, of course, for boots were not as easily constructed. No, these were a gift from Terezi, who looked on approvingly as Jane snapped their buttons into place.

“Ah, yes,” She said, “The red is the perfect accent!” Terezi chuckled, though Jane did not find her footwear so amusing. They were awfully gaudy things just by color alone, why had she let the troll talk her into accepting them? But what was done was done, and she needed sturdy shoes for the trials to come.

“My trident?”

“I didn’t forget it, Your Grace.” In its scabbard and off to the side, Terezi retrieved Jane’s weapon. Its recovery from the Madame had been quite the task, and had taken up most of the day before, but it was well worth the pain. To think it had been left on the Madame’s desk for anyone to take! “Are you sure you’ll need it?” Terezi asked as she handed it over.

When Jane felt its weight in her hand, she felt a piece of herself click back into place, a piece that she had not noticed was missing. “I’d rather be safe than sorry,” she said.

They left Jane’s quarters at once and descended into the throne room, Terezi pulling something lumpy wrapped in cloth from her pockets. It was two rolls, and though it made for a meager breakfast, it was much better than going forward on an empty stomach. Jane nibbled at hers while Terezi wolfed it down with particular zeal.

“We should go over the plan once more, Your Grace, to be sure we have all of our quackbeasts in a row. Granted, most of it hinges on the success or failure of our pocket sized General, but it’d be a most dreadful lie if I said I doubted his ability to talk strangers into submission.” Down, down they went, their voices whispers in the cavernous room. “If all goes accordingly, Karkat will have curried the favor of the Derse nobles, and they will assist us when necessary.”

“And if all stays calm, Kanaya will be able to keep the townspeople in hiding with assistance from Slick and his fellows,” Jane said, a note of something sour in her voice. She had not liked this part of the plan, but if they were to plant Karkat with the Dersites, there had to be some way to get him there in the first place. Kanaya had tried to be chipper since her return, and had promised her full cooperation, but from what time they had spent quietly spreading the word to every Prospitian they could find, she had always cast forlorn glances to the east. It was not fair to tear her from Rose this way, and Jane wanted to make it up to her, but she did not yet know how.

“Ah, yes,” Terezi said, the snarl in her voice impeded by her full mouth. “The _gangster_. I still think the price of his services is far too hefty. We could have bargained down a years’ worth of criminal amnesty to six months, at least.”

Jane sighed. “At this point I am going to take what I can get and not pitch a fit. If it works, it works. We only have one chance.”

The Seer grumbled, but she kept her begrudgings to herself as they neared the bottom of the stairs, hurrying to the main corridor as soon as they reached the ground. “That aside, you should be able to ride out to the approaching army without anyone trying to stop you. I will stay behind and, if need be, orchestrate our forces to defend the city. Karkat’s disappearance will be discovered, of course, so why wouldn’t I be the one to lead them instead?”

The door was before them now, heavy and locked. “I’ll ride out to the war march,” Jane continued, “And if General Vantas has done his part, the nobles should be able to use their forces to hold the Royal Troops at bay, and if it comes down to it, they’ll keep the Lord and…” A lump rose in her throat, and tired orange eyes flashed in her mind. “A-and the Princes of Derse occupied. I’ll fetch Jake and the General and turn straight back, and they should let Dirk free to give chase.”

After that, admittedly, Jane’s plan fell apart to uncertainties. The ultimate goal would be to lead Dirk away from the fighting and talk him down, make him understand their true enemy, but she had no idea if it would even work. Though to her understanding Jake was still not himself, he had never been hard to convince of some new idea if one argued adamantly enough, and Karkat was an informative force to be reckoned with. Between the three of them, Jane truly believed Dirk would see the light. He was not a fool, and did not like to be treated as such. Surely, despite it all, they could gain his support, and then…

And then what? Jane asked herself. How would they overthrow the Cherubs? How would they free the other nobles and royals, how would they free all of the people? Those were answers she did not have, but the more people they had on their side, the more easily they would be answered, she was sure of it. The sooner this attempt at war ended, the sooner both Prospit and Derse could reclaim themselves.

Jane did not need to say this aloud. The conviction in her expression did that for her.

Terezi made short work of the locked door and pushed it open. Before them stood the courtyard, the shadow of the Palace walls keeping out the golden of the dawn. In silence they went around to the paddock where the livestock slept. There were horses enough for all of the Court, but the one that Jane knew the best had the blackest coat, a lovely stallion by the name of Swanson. His eyes flickered open as they approached, and he did not protest as the girls prepared him to set out. When Jane pulled herself onto Swanson’s back, he did not rear or buck, and Terezi took the reigns to lead them towards the front gate.

“It’s possible you may be noticed leaving,” Terezi said.

“I know.”

“You could be stopped somewhere in the city,” She added. Jane bristled.

“I know.”

“It’s entirely likely that you might be captured instead of assisted when you reach-”

“Terezi,” Jane said through gritted teeth, “I don’t need to be reminded of everything that could go wrong. What does the Art of Mind tell you will happen?”

The troll gasped in false shock. “Your Grace, that is none of your business, and I will have to ask you to refrain from inquiring about what I can and cannot see of the future! I cannot support you in a court block if you continue to harass the prosecution!” She prattled on in legalese and metaphors as she unlocked the front gate, and Jane rolled her eyes.

“I get it. You won’t tell me what you know. You’d rather I find out myself, yes?”

“Yes!” With a heavy click and a long creak the gate opened, and Jane took the reigns for herself, looking down to meet Terezi’s gaze. “Besides, I could only tell you so much. I know the thoughts and intentions that will lead to our best outcome, and all I can do is pull at them until they work to our advantage. The war only places that in a game of higher stakes.” Her mouth curled up to its usual razor grin, and she bowed her head. “Break a leg, Your Grace.”

Jane nodded her head in return. “Knock ‘em dead, Lady Pyrope,” She said, and with a click of her tongue and nudge of her heels, Swanson trotted off into the city. Terezi watched Jane disappear as she closed the gate, hoping to sneak back and get at least an hour more of sleep before she was inevitably roused for the coming storm.

Of course, the sight of a sleepy John behind her, mouth agape and shoulders shaking, was more than enough to catch her attention.

~*~

Within the hour the inhabitants of the Palace awoke, and even the coolest of their number were in the throes of a panic that rolled off of Calliope in waves. It prickled at Terezi’s mind, and she sat quietly, her hands bound and her nostrils flaring as she breathed long and hard in an attempt to keep it at bay. Damn John for hearing them leave. Damn him for following them, floating on the Breeze to keep quiet. Bless him for only hearing the bit about a war.

Calliope had tied Terezi up by the time the others converged in the throne room, sharing frightened glances and whispering rumors. Things had only gotten worse when Gamzee had come to them, honking in distress upon discovering Karkat’s absence. His head was in Calliope’s lap now, and she paid no mind to the purple tears that stained her clothes nor the lines of snot and face paint he smeared all over them. Instead, she ran a clawed and trembling hand through his unmanageable curls, soothing him as any mother would soothe a chilld.

“I’m sorry I never told you so,” Calliope said, her head lowered, “But Derse is…quite angry with us. They mean to wage war, and will most likely be at our doorstep before noon.”

“What the hell did _we_ ever do to those purple losers?!” Vriska asked. Her fangs were bared and her hair stood on end, but that anger was only a front for her fear.

“Not a thing!” Said the Madame, “They only want to bully us into submission, I’m sure of it.” There was a righteous fury working through her words, and Terezi could see it slipping into the minds of her peers, tugging at their thoughts and warping them to the Cherub’s will.

“That’s really, uh, not very neighborly of them,” Tavros said. There was a twitch to one of his eyes that was usually reserved for his more stubborn moments. “What are we gonna do about that?”

“If they’re gonna hit us, then we’re gonna hit back, duh!” Roxy exclaimed, slamming a fist to her open palm. “I can’t let _anybody_ try to hurt Callie or you guys! Dirk must be a bigger bonehead than I thought he was, this is totes out of line!”

As the others cheered on in agreement, John stood by, his face crumpled in concentration and biting at his thumbnail. “Is that why Jane left?” He thought aloud, “Was she going to fight them? She can’t do that all herself-”

“Jane is the least of our worries right now,” Calliope said; the very phrase made Terezi go rigid with fury and grind her teeth. The more the Madame pet Gamzee, the more her calm returned, and her control slammed down around them like a cage dropping from above. “We have a kingdom to protect. We’ll set out immediately.”

 “I’m not sure I could do it, Calliope,” Nepeta said, a tremble to her voice. A hand had come up to tug at the side of her funny blue hat, and her thumb ran over its worn cloth with reverence. “I’m not sure…t-they’re my furrends still, but you’re all my furrends, and I-”

The Madame shushed her with a smile that reached her eyes. “I did not expect you to ride against them, Nepeta dear. I wouldn’t dream of forcing you! That is why I have another job for you and Roxy.” She motioned for all to come closer, and they did. “I would like Vriska, Tavros, and Gamzee to ride out with our armies and meet the Dersites before they reach the city,” She explained, “And I would prefer it if John and Jade stayed behind.”

Jade’s mouth dropped open. “But-”

“No buts!” Calliope said. “You will be much safer in the Palace. They won’t get this far, I promise you.” She then looked to Roxy and Nepeta. “You two shall stay here as well, to keep them doubly safe. Do you understand?”

Despite any protests from before, the children nodded in agreement, Calliope’s calm assuring them of the rightness of their compliance. Terezi took a deep breath, which was all she could ever do to match their solace. “And what of me, Madame?” She asked. “I’m the one who let Jane out into the danger. Am I to be punished?”

The kindness and patience shown to her dears was turned onto Terezi in equal measure. “I was thinking you could keep everyone company here,” She said. “After all, it’s quite obvious you are up to mischief today. This is not the time, Terezi.”

“It ain’t the time, Terecita,” Gamzee parroted. The tealblood wrinkled her nose and bit back a retort, something snappy and sharp and possibly too close to the clown’s blood pusher to aim for. If it would free her, she would spill her plan right there, but there was no talking down her peers, not when it was Calliope who she would really have to sway. And when confronted with someone who believed their will absolute, there was no reasoning. The plan would fall apart as if it were made of frayed string.

~*~

There was no way for Jane to know of Terezi’s struggle. If she had stayed in the city long enough, perhaps she would have noticed that the citizens had begun to pull themselves from hiding, increasingly belligerent of the orders of four men in black. Perhaps Kanaya would have come to her, eyes unfocused as she struggled against what she knew was right and the tide of calm and fealty crashing over her. But she did not bother to linger on the streets. She did not want to stop and lose her nerve.

Jane made it clear through the empty city in fifteen minutes, and the sun sat upon the horizon to greet her as she urged Swanson eastward. She could just make out the war march of Derse, a dark blot against the morning light. If she could see them, they truly couldn’t be that far away, perhaps not even a mile’s worth of travel. The thought sent her all ashiver.

Was she ready to confront an army all on her own? Certainly not. Here Jane was, sixteen years old and taking the welfare of so many upon her shoulders. To think that only months ago she had been wondering if she would ever see the throne she had been promised! She did not feel like much of a leader, Princess or Queen or otherwise. She felt like it wasn’t even real, like that part of her was something she would never truly get to claim as her own and that she was just another girl. But if that was the case, then the others – her brother and cousins and the Derse royalty and all the trolls, they were all just children. There was so much they did not know, and yet they were expected to carry on as figureheads and spearheads, all tools in Cherubim hands.

But no more, Jane thought, it would stop today, and she would do all she could to make it so.

In time, the sky above lost the pearly pink of dawn in favor of the blue of day, and the war march became less of a blot and more of a force to be reckoned with. Jane could make out the formations of troops, now a moving wall instead of filed by rank. At the head of each rode the nobles, and then behind were the forces of the Duchess of Lalonde, banners with her sigil raised high. Beside them were the forces of the Lord, clad in green and rowdy behind his imposing bulk. And then, bringing up the rear, Jane could see the perfect order of the Royal Troops. She could see the red of Dave’s attire, the sheen of Maplehoof’s coat, and she could feel hundreds upon hundreds of eyes fall upon her as she drew closer.

There were no caravans in sight. They must have left them further back.

Jane bowed her head as a whistle sounded, and the gallop of hooves approached, harkening the coming of the nobles. Perhaps they could not tell it was her from so far away, and assumed that a messenger had come from Prospit to negotiate. Aradia was the first to reach Jane, her eyes as wide and bright as her grin, nothing like Terezi’s sharpness and yet so very, very odd on its own.

“So Karkat was telling the truth!” She said, taking care to hush her voice. Jane’s head jerked up in surprise.

“Um…yes, of course he was. So you – you believe him, then?”

“He’th perthuathive for a little guy,” Sollux said, bringing his horse next to Aradia’s. His honey calcite snakebites were missing. “Of courthe, it wath earthier to thee where he wath coming from when we got rid of thome…obthtacleth.”

Next came Eridan, a frown on his face and his nose scrunched. “Oh my cod, Sol, newer say ‘obstacles’ again, I think you just mangled ewery syllable – ow-w!” He flinched as Feferi came beside him, smacking him upside the head without batting an eye.

“You’re just crabby you can’t wear your rings, Eridan, no need to take it out on our fronds,” She trilled, and then looked to Jane. “But yes, your General had an awful lot of things to glub about! It’s just us and Rose behind you, but I don’t think anything will go _too_ terribubbly that even we can’t fix it.”

Jane chuckled softly. “ _Just_ all of you and Rose? That’s all I’d hoped for and more!” She paused and looked at the nobles gathered. “But we’re missing one, aren’t we? Where’s Equius?”

The troll in question drew up with his fellows. There was a fresh sheen of sweat on his brow and a gentle tremble to his hands as he held the reigns of his steed with rigid tenderness. “I am…I am present,” He said, “Though I cannot say I am behind you so freely. Please, do forgive my… _impertinence_ , I…I should obey one of your rank, even if you are the enemy of our people, but-”

Aradia sighed. “Just _ask_ her and stop dawdling, geez. We’ll be here all day if you keep kissing butt.”

Equius flinched at Aradia’s words, but he bowed his head. “…Very well. To put it simply, I…I worry for Nepeta. I do not know if you have been made aware, but-”

“She’s your moirail,” Jane finished. Equius gaped at her. “And that’s…important for a troll, right? It must be, if she’s been gone from you all this time and you’re worried about her. She’s doing very well, if that’s what you wanted to ask.

He shook his head. “No – well, yes, that is good to know. But I want to ask…can you assure her safety until I can reunite with her?”

Now that was a loaded question, and Jane chewed her bottom lip as she considered it. Could she really assure the safety of one troll, when there were so many things that could go wrong? Probably not. She did not think Equius would let something like her title keep him from seeking retribution should Nepeta come to harm. But even so, it was better to have him as a friend rather than a foe, so Jane tentatively nodded her head.

“Y-you have my word,” She said. A smile came to Equius’s face.

“Most excellent.”

Another whistle came from the troops, followed by a voice. “Hey, what’re you guys doing over there? Don’t tell me you’re making friends with some dipshit in red booties, we kind of have a war to wage today-”

The nobles snickered as the speaker, most likely Dave, rambled on, and they turned their horses around to face the oncoming march. “Our troops will keep a path clear for you,” Aradia said, “So once we leave, you just bolt straight ahead. Camp’s about a mile back. Jake’s in the Royal Caravan, and Karkat’s keeping him company.” She turned around and grinned, her eyes crinkling at the edges. “We’ll hold them off as long as we can!”

Something painful rose in Jane’s chest, like a barbed bubble prodding at her heart. “How could I ever repay all of you?” She asked, her hands tightening on her reigns.

“Oh, that’s easy,” Aradia said. She faced forward, her hair whipping about. “Prove we’re doing the right thing and win!”

In a blink of an eye they were off, and Jane paused but a moment before she urged Swanson onward, leaning into his gait as he galloped. It was as if the bolt of the nobles prompted the parting of a sea, for as they returned and shouted orders their troops divided, encircling the higher tiers and holding their ground. Rose’s troops diffused through the crowds, the banners bobbing as the more violent of the dissenters were incapacitated. But Jane did not stop to watch them fall, she only raced onward, mindful of the advice she had been given.

“INSUBORDINATION!” Caliborn bellowed as he and his men were surrounded, “THE IMPUDENCE OF THESE NOBLES!! WHO DO THEY ALLOW TO BREAK OUR RANKS?!”

“The red booties!” Dave shouted, “Follow the – holy shit, Aradia, what the _fuck_?!?”

No matter what was said, no matter who said it, Jane did not stop. She did not watch the bloodless coup, for it was nothing but a haze of movement and sound, and she could finally see the shape of the caravans in the distance. She barely registered the sound of hooves a way behind her, and did not notice when they stopped, their rider watching her escape with half a plan already formed in his head.

The narrow tip of a rapier grazed the back of his neck, and he did not flinch. “Well, dear cousin?” Asked Rose, her voice somehow clear in the din, “Are you not going to give chase?”

He wound the reigns once around his hand, twice. “What for? It’d be too easy to catch her. Besides…” With the slightest of tugs, his steed turned around, facing Rose and the mutinying troops and the Palace to the west. “It ain’t hard to figure out which way she’ll come back.”

The rapier faltered. “You can’t possibly mean-”

There was a flash of steel, and a curved blade knocked the rapier from Rose’s hand. She watched it tumble to the ground in disbelief.

“What I mean is my business,” Dirk said. His expression was rigid, set and pained. “And I’m telling you for the last time, Lalonde – butt the fuck _out_.”

With that, he nudged Maplehoof’s flank and made his way around the mob of soldiers. They were far too preoccupied to notice that the person they were most responsible for keeping in place was making his way to Prospit alone.

~*~

The caravans had been left in their camping circle. Jane nearly laughed at how nostalgic it appeared, and she almost expected a fire ready and roaring in the pit at its center, and for everyone to have followed her, ready to converge for a meal. But the pit was black and full of char, and she was alone. Upon reaching the Royal Caravan Jane dismounted, and her hand shook as she tried to open the door. When it did not budge, she slammed upon it.

“Jake! Karkat! Are you in there?” There was the rustle of chains and a groan, and then another set of hands fell upon the other side, claws scraping into the wood.

“About time you got here!” There was one good pound on the wood, and the door shook. “Ow! Shitstaining _fucknuggets_ – augh, who said you could call me that?! Hit a troll while he’s down why don’t you, either you use my title or you’re not allowed to speak to me!”

Oh, that was Karkat all right. How Jane could laugh at his bravado in this situation was absolutely amazing. “Hoo hoo hoo! Do forgive me, General! Can you open the door?”

There was a growling groan, or someone groaned when someone else growled, she couldn’t tell. “Yeah, sure, of course I can. That’s why I tried to punch the damn thing and nearly broke my hand in the process. I thought you were intelligent, Crocker, I was looking forward to not explaining my every word in a conversation again, but no, I think I’m stuck with your pan-addled cousin for the rest of my life! And do you know why? I’ll tell you why – it is because this door has been locked up tighter than the oozing vestigial third oral sphincter of a Mother Grub in a goddamn slurry restrainment apparatus!!!!”

“Then is there anything around you can use as a battering ram?”

“All this shit is nailed down, like hell I can-”

“Bleeding cripes and _crackers_ ,” said a voice. It was Jake’s, scratchy and soft from disuse. “Would you please shut your trap and just barrel the damned thing down with your horns and stop _talking_ , I feel like my head’s right about to split down the middle…”

Jane felt her heart leap, and her hands pulled at the door again. “Jake! Jake, are you okay? I’m here to help!” It didn’t matter if Jake didn’t remember in that moment, all that was important was that he was alive and just beyond this door.

There was a soft gasp. The rustle of chains turned to clanking and the slight strain of wood. “Jane? Jane! Oh, by gum, is that really you?!” His voice held a desperate note, and he continued over Karkat’s grumblings. “Jane I am so sorry! This is all my fault, I – I’ve been in a right nasty fog all this time, we wouldn’t be in this mess if hadn’t bumbled into that trap-”

“Are you trying to pull the chains out of the wall? Harley, you are going to hurt yourself and I will never hear the end of it if you do-”

It was Jane’s turn to groan. They would never stop arguing if they weren’t freed! Again she tried the door, though she knew it was useless. “We can talk about blame and bumblings later! Boys, please, think of our friends fighting for our sake. I refuse to let them go on a moment longer than they must!” In frustration she rammed her shoulder into it, biting back the pain. “We only – have – so much time!”

There was the softest of pops beside her, and a shadow fell on Jane with no warning. She stilled when a set of rough gloved hands pulled her back.

“Whoa there, Little Momma,” Said a voice. It was an octave lower than she was used to, but the level tone and the rhythm of the words was immediately recognizable. How could she forget it when she had lived with it for almost a month? “If time’s what you need, then it’s good I came, because I’ve got nothin’ but time on my side.”

Jane whirled around, and her gaze met naught but a figure hooded in red. He was a good half foot taller than she expected him to be, but her trident was unsheathed regardless, the tines pointed towards him. She did not need to see his face to know that his eyebrows had risen as he held his hand up in surrender.

“Okay, sure, pull a weapon on an ally, that’s smart. God, I forgot how bad your form was.” She felt her hair stand on end at his words, and she adjusted her grip.

“T-That remains to be seen, doesn’t it?” Jane said. “Especially if you’re insulting me in the same breath that claims to be on my side!” She jabbed towards him slightly, and though he did flinch, he did not seem to be too worried about her reach. “You’ll need to prove it to me…Sir Dave.”

They ignored Karkat’s pounding on the door, and his demands to know who she was speaking to. The man pulled back his hood, his shoulders relaxing. It really was Dave, from the cut of his jib to the round, darkened spectacles perched on the bridge of his nose, but there was stubble on his chin that hadn’t been present before, and a faint scar on one cheek. He’d grown – and it was quite impossible for someone to be grown in the span of minutes.

“Now I know what you’re thinkin’,” He started.

“Don’t presume that much,” Jane countered. He pushed the tines of her trident away with a finger, mindful of the points, and she moved it back into place.

“Alright, I’m cool with that. Just hold on a second before you skewer me, okay? Let a dude say his piece.” He slowly reached into his cloak and pulled out a key. It was long and thin, old with patches of rust. “I’ve got this handy dandy little doodad here. It’ll unlock that door, it’ll free the J-man from his chains, and I’m offering it to you. It’s part of my deal as a rad, bad time traveler.”

Jane narrowed her eyes and pulled her trident back. “A…time traveler?”

“Yeah. Like with Time. As in, the Art of Time?” He pointed the key to his face. “Explains a lot, don’t it? So before you stick a fork in me, please consider all the future people who will mourn the loss of my undeniable swag, future you and my future bro included.”

He paused to let his words sink in, but all Jane could do was roll her eyes and sheathe her weapon. “That sounds like poppycock. Can you prove it?”

“Give me ten minutes and the proof will walk in all on its own.” He held the key out to her. “But how about you give me the benefit of the doubt until then?”

Jane eyed this strange man carefully. She would like to believe that he was Dave, and all signs pointed to him being much older than the Dave she knew, but at the same time, why would he so easily align himself with her? She had to know, and until she did she could not trust him. With a sigh, she took the key from his hand.

“There are two boys in this caravan who will hit you should you be lying,” She warned, fitting it into the door’s lock. He shrugged as she turned the key.

Karkat had his finger raised and his mouth mid-monologue as she opened the door, and only seemed to realize that he was no longer trapped when Jane enveloped him in a tight, brief hug. She left him to contend with the stranger in red when she spotted Jake behind him, mouth agape and chained to the wall. Her heart broke when she saw his face and all the bruises it had been adorned with, and no sooner was she at his side that she started to fumble for the locks to his chains. There was only one, really, attached to a collar around his neck, but it was enough to sicken her on sight.

“Jane,” Jake said. His eyes were swollen and riveted on her like there was nothing else he ever wanted to look at. “Jane, I’m an utter buffoon, I doubt you could ever forgive me-”

“Hush, you silly boy,” She said, fingers catching onto the keyhole, “I know you can’t remember as you should, but I’ll get you someplace safe, you deserve that at least-”

“If I’d only been right in the head I could’ve kept you from all this trouble! Bouncing bunny bullocks, it’s my job to protect you! Might as well call me Mister Bungle at this point-”

“Who’s the one who gave you those bruises? I am going to give them such a crick in the neck-” The thin key slipped easily inside, though Jane had to jimmy it about before she heard a click. As the collar fell off, she had a terrible thought, and her heart sank to her stomach. “Oh God, it wasn’t – did _Dirk_ do all of this to you?” Oh please let it not be him, Jane thought, for all the anger he held for Prospit let him not have laid a hand on her cousin, he was blameless-

A pair of strong arms pulled Jane down into a hug, and a tired head lulled onto her shoulder. “His Majesty?” Jake asked, “Shucks, no, all he ever did was interrogate me to hell and back! And I didn’t breathe a word about us this time. He had Sir Dave do all the heavy lifting, it is _always_ Sir Dave handing me my own arse! I am a pitiful excuse for a Duke, Jane, I really am.”

The note of relief that came from Jake’s explanation suddenly shattered, and Jane pulled away from him. “Hold on – how do you know you’re a Duke? That would mean you remember-”

“Oh my God, Jane,” Drawled the man that could be Dave, his hands cupped around his mouth, “He already said he remembered you like four fragmented declarations ago, get with the program already.”

“And just who the hell are you to waltz in here like you own the place?!” Karkat exclaimed. The man raised an eyebrow over her spectacles.

“Well excuse fuckin’ me,” He said, “But in a manner of speaking? I own at least half of this caravan by birthright. You insult me in my own mobile home, sir. Do I have to serve you your own flat ass on a plate like some dude on Butler Island? I don’t wanna have to do that to a future bro. It’ll totally ruin my weekend.”

As Karkat gaped openly at the man, Jake gasped, and he struggled in Jane’s grasp. “It’s you!” He said, his face brightening as if he were Hope itself. “The Future Sir Dave! My one manbro boon in this hellish carnival of madness! Oh, Jane, do tell me you’ve fallen in with him, that would be absolutely bully! He’s the reason I can remember you again!”

That gave her pause, and she looked to the man with her own raised eyebrow. He shrugged again, rubbing the back of his neck. “And I’m the reason he forgot in the first place, among other things.”

“I forgave you though!”

“Yeah, well, forgiveness doesn’t change the fact that it happened,” He said quietly. “Even the old ‘greater good’ spiel can’t make up for it, but for what it’s worth, I’m sorry it all had to be this way. It’s all time spirographs for miles, and if I’m not in step then I have to try all over again.” He looked down at the ground and scuffed the floor with his shoe. “For what it’s worth, I can at least say that past me is a little dick. I shouldn’t have knocked your lights out, Jake. That was uncool.”

Jake shrugged, or he did so as best he could with his hands still bound. “It’s like I said! I forgive you.”

Those words may have relieved the man in red, but they only deepened the mystery for Jane. She reached a hand for her cousin’s bonds and began to fiddle with the knots. “That may be all well and good for you, Jake,” She said, “But I need an explanation as to how one man could be both the solution and the cause of what has happened to us. Start from the top, Mister Future Man, if you please.”

And so, as best as he could and curtailing his metaphors when asked, the Dave of the future recounted his travels in time. Going over all of the failed timelines that had curled off of this one would have probably taken forever, so he kept his tale to this one, outlining every careful step, every right answer to the mistakes he had made in the past – to rescue Jake through ignorance, to plant a letter under Dirk’s pillow on just the right night, to forge a command, to have faith in a conspirator and to leave a trail of metaphorical breadcrumbs to the truth.

“I’ve got one last thing I need to do,” He said as he wrapped up his tale, “And then I can hop back home and leave you to catch up as normal. But the point is that I am completely and one hundred percent on the train to a Cherub-free future. What I’ve got coming up is going to cement that future into place for you.”

“What’s the thing you have to do?” Jane asked. Jake had listened with rapt attention as if this Future Dave were his greatest hero, while Karkat’s face had grown more and more concerned with each action described. The Future Dave shook his head.

“Spoilers.”

Karkat threw his hands up. “That’s a load of shit! You say you’ve done all this cloak and dagger assfuckery but you can’t even tell us what’ll get your self-satisfying mug out of our lives? Gee, thanks a lot! Who do you think you are here, Troll Marty Mcfly-”

His complaint was cut by the caravan door as it slammed open, and the Future Dave pitched forward as someone tackled him from behind. What followed was a short and confusing tussle, Jane shouting in surprise and pulling Jake back as Karkat tried not to be taken down into the jumble of red. When it finally stilled, the Future Dave was on top of his assailant, a broken blade held in his grasp and the jagged edge pressed into the cheek of the new arrival.

Jake was the one to spot it first. “Holy moley!” He exclaimed, “I think I’m seeing double!” He pointed to the fellow under the Future Dave. “By jove, man, be careful-”

“He _knows_ ,” Said the fellow. This time, the voice was the perfect pitch. “If he made it this far that means he gets the paradox in killing himself. Give it a rest, Captain Obvious.”

Yes, it was Dave underneath the Future Dave – their Dave, the one they had been traveling with all this time. Any pretense of a calm and cool front was gone, and he glared at his future self with unabashed disdain, his teeth gritted in pain against the fresh cut on his cheek. The Future Dave made a sound in the back of his throat.

“ _Fuck_. If there’s one thing I was hoping I’d avoid, it’s that goddamn scar.” He grabbed a fistful of his past self’s tunic and held him down. “The hell did you have to jump me for? Now neither of us will get tail with this thing. Mark my words, chicks do not think scars are sexy and we are doomed to at least four years of smoldering rejection.”

“I thought you were _Jane_!” Said their Dave. He was oddly still, perhaps mindful of the broken sword and what it could do to him, even if it would not kill. “You really didn’t think I’d follow an enemy storming our base? Really? You’re me, you should know I’d come and be ready for when I bust a move-”

He practically squealed when the blade sunk into the wood beside his head. The Future Dave leaned down close, his eyes narrowing. “Maybe it’s a little too beyond your understanding, little dude, but maybe some shit’s gotta happen for a timeline to work.” The hand that held his tunic let go in favor of a string around Dave’s neck. “Maybe I’m gonna need my own ass for backup later. Having you come to me is much easier.” With a yank the string snapped, and the Future Dave held a broken pendant in his hands, a small thing with a charm of smooth carmelian. He cast it a dirty look and tossed it into the caravan. “There. Feel any better?”

Their Dave gave him an indignant look. “No.”

“Bullshit, you probably feel loads better.”

“I’m still pissed as hell-”

Jane let out an exasperated groan. “Good golly _gravy_ , boys! That is quite enough!”

“Yeah, you’re both equally repulsive to look at, there’s no contest,” Karkat added, his voice completely deadpan.

“Now don’t you think that’s a little harsh?” Jake asked.

Both the Future Dave and Karkat made to answer him, words forming on their tongues, when there was another abrupt interruption. But this was more than just another person coming to intrude. This was a sound that rattled their very insides, a tremor and searing wind that slammed into the caravan and a brilliant moment of light that stung their eyes. The five of them flinched at the light, and when it finally faded, they could see a plume of smoke and fire rising into the sky, framed by the caravan’s door.

Something had happened where Jane had left the troops of Derse. Something bad.

~*~

It is perhaps forty five into the future from when Dirk left his armies, half an hour after the explosion on the battlefield. Not that you would know. You never did get to see all that yourself.

Nepeta and Roxy are easily dealt with. It’s not because they are poor fighters or guards – far from it actually, and you know their skills will only improve with age. It just so happens that the powers at your fingertips make things like evasion and trickery all the easier, and your mastery has eliminated most of Space’s usual fanfare. All that lingers in your wake is the faint smell of ozone.

Terezi picks up on it right away. Even when she can still see, her nose is as sharp as ever. “Have you come again to try and convince me to confess to treason?” She asks as you approach her from behind. She has been left alone in the throne room, tied up between the grand seats, and she does not bother to turn around. “I already told you that I am exerting my right to remain silent. Besides, you are asking the completely wrong questions should you want to frame me for such a thing.”

You kneel beside her, your hair brushing her cheek, and she finally turns to look at you. Her eyes widen considerably, and you offer her a grin.

“Well you’ve changed in the last few minutes since I’ve seen you,” Terezi says. “You wouldn’t happen to be working with that darling Strawberry Crusader, would you?”

You snort as you cut her bonds. “Maybe I am, maybe I’m not!” Terezi tuts.

“Secrets aren’t any fun unless everyone knows of them! You can’t hold out on me, not when you’re the juiciest of all the secrets!”

That makes another chuckle bubble up in your chest. You’ve only had that Strawberry Crusader to speak to for days, and while his wit is enjoyable to listen to, you do like variety. You let Space spark at your palms as the bonds fall from Terezi’s wrists. “But we’ll be here all day if I do! And you have someplace you need to be, right?”

Her eyes widen. She can probably see how your body flickers to show the scene beyond, how the expanse looms ahead and the troops march onward. She shakes in anticipation, and when you reach out your hand she grabs it immediately, sparing no thought for what might await her. The last you see of her as she flickers away is that wonderful, wicked grin, and for half a moment you think you should pull her back. What happens next you only know through word of mouth and from seeing the results firsthand, and it really isn’t right to send her into it without a word of caution.

The reason you only think of it for half a moment is because a rifle cocks behind you, and you know its barrel is leveled at the back of your head, that the hands it rests in are those of one hell of a shot. After all, you’ve lived through this moment before.

“Hold it right there, Missy,” You say – the younger you, the you who is frightened and angry and itching for action. The present you – the older you, the you who is tired and upset and absolutely fed up with everything – heaves a sigh.

“I’m gonna let you know right now that what you’re thinking is a really, really bad idea,” You say. The younger you is gaping at your back, unable to believe her ears. Your voice hadn’t really changed through these years, and you know you’ve just thrown yourself for a loop.

As the tip of the rifle pokes your head you move, faster than the blink of an eye and barely sparking with Space. You grab the shaft and aim the barrel at the sky as you teleport, concentrating on your bedroom above and wary of the finger on the trigger. By the time you land in a mess of plush toys and fallen blanket forts, the present you is holding the gun, and its aimed right back at younger you.

Could anyone blame you for mirroring her expression of panic?

Below, unbeknownst to either you, John has run into the throne room, hammer in hand. The younger you had run off when she heard something strange, and he couldn’t bear to let you go in without backup. He calls for you. He notes Terezi’s disappearance and grips his hammer tighter. And then, far down the corridor, he hears the front door open.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me tell you, coordinating events in such a small span of time is a total bitch. If it doesn't make sense, please assume that there was liberal abuse of Space teleportation.
> 
> So yeah, here is part one of the climax of Of Royal Forge! A bit long, but I wanted it to all stick in one thing - and breaking it up into two chapters only heightens the suspense, I think! I hope this will tide you over until I can get the next part out - and I've been dying to write it for ages and ages!!!


	24. Self

It took all of five minutes to reach the location of the explosion by horseback, the Daves on one steed and the Prospitians on poor, maligned Swanson. There may have been sour thoughts between them, but such a thing was meaningless in the face of a possible catastrophe.

As they approached, at first there seemed to be little carnage. The Dersite soldiers were in a daze, eyes wide and hollow as they rubbed their ears in a futile attempt to hasten the return of their hearing. But as they drew closer, the more soldiers began to sport burns, and the more those burns had begun to bubble their skin. Those who were not in pain did their best to ease those who were. There was something worrying about the injured, Jane noticed – almost all of them wore singed remnants of golden uniforms, and as Swanson passed, they would look up at Karkat perched on his back in humbled shame. He returned each stare with a set jaw and grim pity.

“General,” Jane began, her voice quiet, “These can’t be…they aren’t _our_ soldiers, are they?”

She expected a snort, a snappy retort colored with imagery better left unseen, but it did not come. Karkat’s voice was less a roar and more a somber grumble. “They are. I recognize a lot of the faces here.” He let out a hard breath through his nose. “I thought you were coming alone.”

“I did come alone!” She exclaimed. Jake, who had seated himself between the Princess and the General, hummed in thought.

“Then they must’ve been on your tail like a duck on a june bug to get here so hastily,” He said, “Or perhaps there’s some sort of shenanigans afoot! We should ask someone. Do you think the nobles of Derse might have a clue?” He turned to the Future Dave and grinned. “You’ve done all this before. What’s the story?” But the Future Dave had his mouth shut, and his gaze on a group that had converged at the epicenter. Their Dave rolled his eyes.

“Don’t even acknowledge him. Future me is a big dick, but if he’s tight lipped, there must be some Time bullshit to it. Let’s go see what’s got his diapers in a twist, shall we?”

And so they went, though truthfully it did not take long to get there. It was the nobles of Derse who had converged on the spot, blocking something from sight and shouting at each other.

“Can’t you just grow them back for him-”

“It doesn’t work like that, Aradia! If you keep asking I am going to give you SUCH a pinch-”

“Could someone please remove the highblood-”

“The girl’th thtill bleeding a lot-”

“You ain’t pressin’ dow-wn hard enough, that’s w-why-”

“Please…he is weeping into my lap, and it is awkward-”

“I’m not prethhing down on her fucking eye, ED-”

 “Sollux!! You cut out that tuna voice with my moray-eel this instant-”

“Give him here, I believe our peers are occupied with other-”

A sound ripped through the air and silenced the nobles, not as ear-splitting as the explosion but just as chilling. It was a snarling, throaty honk, as much a warning as it was a cry for help. Jane stilled, while Karkat nearly threw himself off of Swanson and barreled through the group. The first thing Jane saw, and probably the only thing the General saw at that moment, was Gamzee Makara of all trolls, relenting to Karkat’s touch as he pulled the clown off of the lap of a very flustered Equius. The next thing she saw…

It could only be described as a split second of disbelief, that all of the blood spilt could not really be blood. After all, blood was red, wasn’t it? And there was so much of it here, staining skin and welling against well-intentioned hands. It couldn’t be true…it just couldn’t!

But it was.

Under Feferi’s frenzied command, the trolls of Derse were doing their absolute best to mend two of the trolls of Prospit, both unconscious, both bleeding profusely. Sollux and Eridan sniped at each other over the limp form of Vriska Serket, her left arm blown clean off of her body and her left eye naught but ripped flesh and cobalt; Feferi swatted away Aradia’s attempts to place Tavros Nitram’s severed legs back onto his body as fuchsia fire danced at his wounds.

Jane leapt off of Swanson as soon as she came to her senses again, Jake following close behind and the Daves forgotten. When she broke into the circle, Karkat looked up from the troll now shaking in his lap. His mouth moved, but the only sound that came out was winded and squeaky. The others glanced up from their work, taking in the additions to their group, but they did not shout in surprise or welcome the newcomers. The only two who could spare more for them were Rose and Equius.

“So I…I see you are all safe,” Rose said. Her face was pale and somewhat drawn. “I must admit I wasn’t worried, but I think it’s evident that we had other issues to attend to.” Jake chuckled weakly at her words, but even he couldn’t keep himself together in the face of this sort of gore. Jane herself thought her stomach might turn itself inside out from the smell alone.

“What happened here?” She asked, gesturing to the injured trolls, “How did they get this far so quickly? I wasn’t followed, Rose, you saw that yourself! My court shouldn’t be like this!”

The Seer’s forehead had furrowed, and for once, it seemed as if she were searching for answers herself. “I don’t know exactly how it happened,” Rose said, “But a large mass of people appeared suddenly in a flash of green light – these trolls, and a battalion. I believe the girl had some sort of explosive on her person, and she made to strike down Caliborn, but…” She turned to Equius. “As I recall, Lord Zahhak had a better view of what happened than I.”

Equius nodded once. “I did indeed. It seemed that the lowblood became…agitated…when he realized what she planned to do. He tried to stop her attempt on the Lord, but…he disappeared from sight the moment before the explosion. As you can see, it only ended in tragedy.” He turned to Tavros, and Jane could just imagine him squinting. “Although, it is unclear to me…as to how the lowblood’s _legs_ were mangled, and not some other body part.”

“Better his legs and not his head, the poor chap,” Jake said, a note of optimism to his words. But Jane could not share that sentiment. These two were her subjects, and while she had only gotten to know them under the Madame’s haze of control, that didn’t make them any less worth her attention and care. Whatever had driven Vriska to do what she did, whatever drew Tavros to try and stop her, Jane had to know the cause, and she had to teach it a lesson.

There was a raw ferocity to her as she spoke, tinting her words and molding her expression into something foreign, worn not with pride or grace, but through sheer determination. “A green light. That comes from the Art of Space, I’ve seen it myself, but there aren’t many people who can use it. I remember Kanaya said she was still at the beginner stages…and Jade could use it on herself and other people, but she’s not here. And to send a group of this size with the obvious intent to harm…”

The only answer Jane could think of was something she did not want to say aloud. It filled her with cold dread and a nostalgic prickle in her heart that had nothing to do with a manufactured calm. She needed someone else to confirm it, and her eyes fell upon the mess of a troll in Karkat’s lap. Gamzee had calmed considerably under the General’s hands, but she doubted he was in any condition for an interrogation. Karkat must have known what she was thinking, for when she drew closer, he glared up at her.

“Oh _hell_ no,” He said. Jane knelt before them.

“He’s the only one we can ask.”

Karkat’s hold on Gamzee tightened, and his shoulders hunched forward protectively. “Look at the state he’s in! You’re not his moirail, you don’t have the right or the backbone to deal with him!”

These trolls and their quadrant loyalties! They would be the death of her for sure, Jane thought. “Then would _you_ be able to ask him how he got here? You seem awfully close to just be friends.”

It was mean, but Jane couldn’t help the smidge of pride that she felt when she saw Karkat’s cheeks flush a very human red. “T-That’s another thing! The state of my quadrants and assumptions on whether or not someone fills them is none of your goddamn business-”

Karkat’s words halted when Gamzee lifted his head, his eyes wide with awe and turned towards Jane. The clownish lord held a hand out towards her. “Hold up, now,” He said, his voice raw and graveled from distress, “Is this some miracle I’m all about and experiencin’? Must be some bitchtits wicked kinda thing, ‘cause I was thinkin’ we wouldn’t see the Little Princess ‘round these parts all sure-like!” He hiccupped as he grinned, his hand finding its way into her hair, and Jane pulled a face, but she did not pull away. She had his attention, after all.

“It’s nice to see you too, Lord Makara,” Jane said, and she tried to ignore how Gamzee had wound one of her flyaway curls around his finger. “Tell me who brought you here.”

He laughed, each breath a weak honk in his throat. “Aw man, girl don’t play around, does she? See, Callie was all up and sayin’ that Derse was down with all sorts of harshrages, so we was all like, man, that ain’t cool, we gotta show these motherfuckers they gotta quit that cold gobblebeast. If we gotta launch some harshwhimsy back at ‘em, then that’s what we gotta do! So Callie zapped us here with the finest of Spacey magics.” The peace that he had gained edged back somewhat into his earlier distress, and he looked uneasily to Vriska’s prone form, where Feferi had finally moved to share her healing touch. “But then somebody took that waaaay too serious. Tried to fight harshrage with harshrage. My bro-” Indigo welled in Gamzee’s eyes as he turned to Tavros. “-He wasn’t about to let that stand on its own two legs at all. A-And now he ain’t got no legs to stand on himself…”

“Oh God,” Karkat said, his voice more soft than gruff, “Please don’t start blubbering, that’s the last thing we need right now.” He drew Gamzee back into his lap and held him tight, all the while glowering at Jane. “Well? Happy now, Crocker?”

 “Never better,” Jane said tersely. She could not believe that the Madame had thought to do something so…so foolish! So irresponsible! Did she really think riling everyone up and throwing them into battle would work? But how smart or responsible was she, truly, if all she did when the court died off was make a Crocker revive them again?

She ignored the honk of distress as she stood up, Gamzee’s hand falling from her head. Now everyone’s attention fell to her. “Where’s Dirk?” She asked the throng. When they did not answer, she spoke again. “I know you can’t keep him at bay if you’re all here, but surely he must be somewhere. I don’t have time to lead him away, I’ve got to speak with him now! We can’t let this go on anymore!”

For a moment – just one, and barely a second – there was naught but silence, and Jane’s mind flitted to the char and suffering around them. There was a funny feeling in her stomach, like she had tripped over her feet and tumbled over a clif, to fall and fall and never land. What if…it was possible, wasn’t it? Could Dirk be wounded somewhere, caught in the blast? Burned and bleeding as badly as her courtesans, or worse? And she had never gotten the chance to speak to him one last time…

“I think in all of the commotion, the others forgot to keep track of him,” Rose finally said, taking note of how Jane’s hands had begun to shake, “And the last I saw of him, he was headed to Prospit.” She rested her fist against her chin in thought. “He mentioned something about knowing which way you would return, and I would not think it far-fetched to presume he might have gone to lie in wait for you.”

The spike of relief through Jane’s fear wavered. Lie in wait…those were not good words, not at all, and yet she tried to shrug them off with a laugh that was more hollow than hoo. “Rose, that…that makes it sound like he wants to kill me! I’ve no doubt that he’s angry, but he couldn’t possibly…” But Jane’s words died on her lips as she took in the expressions of those around her, those who had traveled from the Scratchlands with the Prince of Derse beside them. Their faces had darkened, as if haunted by the ghost of Caliborn’s ensnaring fear, and none could move to answer her.

It was Jake who cleared his throat first, placing a gentle arm around his cousin’s shoulders. “Jane,” He began, “Now, I may not know His Majesty very well per say, and this is only a hunch, but…I don’t think Dirk is very much…himself right now.”

“ _No_. Really?”

The new voice spooked the group, and they looked to see the Future Dave on the outskirts, holding their Dave by the scruff of his tunic. There were a great many gasps at his presence. Sollux in particular muttered something disparaging about doubles and insufferable douchenozzles under his breath, earning a thumbs up from their Dave, who was shoved off into the group.

“Brilliant deduction, Einstein,” The Future Dave continued, brushing his hands together, “Really, Jake. You deserve a prize for figuring that out. Little me isn’t gonna catch onto that for a while.”

Their Dave bristled visibly. “Hey! My Bro is perfectly fine, it’s the rest of you who’re crazy!” He jabbed a finger at his older self. “Especially you! What an awesome thing to look forward to, thanks for cluing me in on that little tidbit! I’ll be sure to gnaw on my inevitable spiral into madness until I become you and the secrets of the cosmos suddenly reveals itself to me in my alphabet soup, explaining why I have to become some fuckwit in a cape with a hobo beard trying to dismantle a two month long war march!”

“Oh, God, would you shut _up_ ,” Future Dave groaned, “I’ll shave when I go back, there’s no time to give me flack for it. You’ve got a colossal issue headed your way right now, okay? More important than whatever sort of whiskers may or may not be chillin’ on my face, and way more important than what basically amounts to Caliborn’s temper tantrum!” He threw his hands up, and a subtle rumble filled the air, shaking the ground and making teeth chatter. Everyone stilled to listen, even the troops beyond, the wounded and able alike. “You think you’re a player, but boy, you’re being played with by the universe’s biggest manchild! And I _know_ you don’t believe that for a second, but it’s gonna come at you fast and hard so you best do something about it!”

Just as his words faded on the wind, the ground below gave a great lurch, and even he stumbled as something big and green hit the earth nearby. The sound of the impact was like the crash of a thousand grandfather clocks struggling to toll, and the troops scrambled to get away from it, pulling along those who could not move themselves. Only Jane and the others stayed to watch the monstrosity rise from the dirt, and oh was it _monstrous_.

It was Lord Caliborn, his clothes in tatters and his fangs bared; his eyes blazed, but they did not flicker, not yet, and they were lucky just for that. His jaw creaked open as he drew breath, and what he expelled was a roar that seized and chilled the heart. There was no need to project fear, for that which rose in those assembled was pure and raw. Anything that could make a sound like that had earned the encompassing terror of all, and what could one do against terror? Against a rage that none could quell?

The Derse nobles looked to each other, but no one could find the courage to make a sound. Not even Jane thought she could bring herself to lead them, not against this. As much as she despised the Lord for all he had done, it would take a fool to go against him, someone who believed that they coud conquer a God.

And that was when the Future Dave stepped forward, broken sword in hand.

“Well?” He said. His eyes were on the Cherub Lord, but his words were for those who gaped at his back. “That little coup was a practice run. You guys ready for the real game?” No one made to answer him, or to join him at first. What he proposed only proved that he as just as crazy as their Dave made him out to be.

But there were some things that were deeper than fear.

When Aradia stepped forward, eyes riveted to the caped figure, sparks of red and blue danced around her, making her hair frizz and stand on end. She looked back at Sollux and scowled. “What is it?”

“There ith no way you’re doing what I think you’re doing,” He said, a soft glow radiating from behind his spectacles, “You’ll get yourthelf killed if you thide with him!”

“But he’s on _our_ side!” With a flash of white, Aradia shook off his psiionic hold and turned away. “What he’s doing is what we kind of agreed to when we decided to help Jane, isn’t it? He’s got the same goal in mind.” With a shrug, Aradia took off for the fields ahead. “And besides! Future or present, Dave is my Time Buddy. There’s solidarity in that!”

Sollux balked. “ _Shit!_ AA, don’t be a dumbathh!” He exclaimed, and he ran after her. Equius, too, rose from the ground to join them.

“Lady Megido, this is most impertinent – we cannot allow you to do such a thing!”

Feferi sprang up next, a fistful of skirt in each hand and a glint to her eye. “Eridan, get my trident! We can’t let everybody else have fun without us!”

“Fef, w-wait-”

But she had already joined the others and set her sholders in determination. Fins flaring, Eridan hurried after Feferi, his arms filled with discarded weaponry. With a shrug, Rose parted to join them, unsheathing her rapiers. With a twist and a click the blades dropped to the ground, and the hilts became handles to a set of long, striped needles. “Oh, how I have waited for this moment…”

“You guys are making a huge mistake!” Their Dave cried, and he too ran to join them. There was a genuine note of concern in his voice, and hearing it made Jane realize something as the Derse nobles gathered together. As frightened as they were in this moment, and as ridiculous as they had been in all the time she had known them, they were bretheren. They had each others’ backs, and coud not abandon each other should one set off into the unknown. It was almost like watching a line of dominoes fall, one push influencing the next.

To stand with them would have been brave in itself, but something in Jane knew that they would be fine on their own. They all thought clearly, and the troops of Derse had begun to congregate around them, no doubt curious of the standoff. No, she did not belong to this fight. It was the city where she would be needed. It was risky, to be sure, a veritable dragon’s den waiting for her to blunder into, but…even if Dirk was not himself, she had to go to him. She had to try and make him see that what he was doing was wrong, and for that, she had to make sure she left her allies with as much help as they could get.

“General Vantas?” Jane said.

There was a huff. “What.”

“Will the Prospitian troops obey you without question?”

“If they know what’s good for them,” Said Karkat. “What do you want them to do?”

She almost had to laugh at that. “I never said I wanted them to do anything.”

“Yeah, well, you wouldn’t ask if you didn’t, so spit it out.”

Jane turned to her General and attempted a smile. He was still on the ground, his arms full of Gamzee. “Would they ride with Derse against the Lord, if you asked?”

He shrugged in response. “I could manage that, yeah. I’m going to take a completely wild guess and say that you want me to stick around and do that.”

“It would be appreciated, yes.” She then turned to Jake, who had watched the whole affair with a sort of awe that was not quite describable. “You can ride a horse on your own, can’t you Jake? I don’t think either Dave will mind if we borrow his.”

Her cousin, bless his heart, he looked at Jane as if she had sprouted a second head. “I – golly gumdrops, Jane, of course I can! But why would I need to ride a horse?”

She blinked. “Because we’re going to follow after Dirk?”

“We are?” His expression fell. “But I thought we’d be fighting-”

“You’re probably better off getting out of here while you can,” Karkat said. Caliborn had not made his move yet, but he looked to be steady now, ready to strike. “Once that big guy rushes in, shit is going to hit the fan so hard it’ll be launched into the next sweep.” He squeezed Gamzee tighter. “Crocker, whatever you’re planning, make it _count_. We can’t afford anything else blowing up in our faces.”

She nodded, though his words unnerved her. Running after Dirk was inherently selfish on her part, even if she had good intentions. Everything she did for him felt selfish. And yet, what could she do? Her heart sang for her to return west.

In no time at all, Jane and Jake threw themselves onto their respective steeds and sped to the capitol of Prospit. Karkat had begun to marshal his troops to action as they had left, his usual demeanor returning as he bossed them around. He even made sure to leave his fellow courtesans in the hands of others, and instructed them to stay as far from the fight as possible. He did not want to take any chances, and it reminded Jane of the Derse Nobles’ solidarity, but it wasn’t quite the same. There was a subtle and gentle intent there, and she knew she could trust her General to do what was right.

They hadn’t gotten far when the battle began. Caliborn’s shouts echoed over the hills and valleys, cutting through the battle cries of the soldiers. No matter how much space Swanson put between his rider and the sourse, Jane felt as if he were screaming right into her very ears.

“TREACHEROUS SCUM! I WILL GRIND ALL OF YOU!! INTO DUST UNDER MY HEEL!! AND I WILL EVISCERATE YOUR REPUGNANT AND DOLTISH PIGSOW OF A PRINCESS!!!!”

Her shoulders hunched at the insult, but Jane did not take it to heart. He was a despicable creature, with no real worth to his words that she should ever take into account, and there were much more important things for her to do. She had no time to turn around and combat him.

Besides, it’s not like he hadn’t called her worse things before.

Eventually, the cacophony of strife faded from their ears as the city drew closer, its golden walls as bright as the sun itself. Jane could just hear Jake’s gasp of wonder before she noticed something strange about them. There was a great pounding behind the main gate, and it rattled like its flimsiers cousins in the hands of an impatient child who had not yet learned the magic of latches and locks; there were grunts and rallying cries, and above it all was the frantic direction of someone who should not have been there.

“God _damn_ it! Lemmings, you’re all fuckin’ lemmings! I bet if there was a bridge around here you’d all jump off it!”

Jane urged Swanson faster, and when he pulled up to the gate she pounded right back on it, making a face at how it creaked and groaned under pressure. “Mister Slick! Let me in, Mister Slick!”

There was a shout and a bout of scrambling before something slammed into the gate, straining its lock and allowing for a sliver of the scene behind it. Swanson pulled back, obviously spooked, but Jane stilled him and drew close to peer inside, and what she saw chilled her to the bone. A great throng of people had come up from the basements and cellars and attics that Jane had begged for them to hide in, and they were desperately trying to leave the city, many waving about blunt instruments and sharp objects, knives and brooms and, yes, even the occasional pitchfork. There was a flash of black, and soon an eye appeared at the crack.

“Well look who finally decided to show up!” Slick exclaimed. His words were like an oily congeniality, all pretence and dripping with panicked frustration. “Girlie, I’d love to let you in, but as you can tell, we’ve got a situation over here!”

Jake drew up beside her, squinting into the crack. “Who the devil are you talking to?”

“Is that the pea-brain we’re riskin’ our neck for you to save?” Slick asked. Jake drew back at his tone, growing more perplexed by the second.

“I take offense to that, sir! My brain is the farthest from a green mushy seed as it can possibly be-”

The pressure on the gate let up for a moment before it slammed back again, shoving Slick into the crack. He let out a string of swears that would put Karkat to shame as he tried to wiggle free. “Yeah – well – maybe you could – hold off on those scandalizations until – I’m not being sandwiched between a mob and a hard place!!”

“Yes, but _why_ is there a mob?” Jane asked, her breath hissing between her teeth.

“I don’t fuckin’ _know!_ ” The crowds pushed harder, and Slick groaned as the pressure built on his slinged arm. “Augh, shit – one minute it’s all calm and the next people are burstin’ outta their houses and screamin’ about havin’ someplace to be! It’s like they’ve all got the same crazy-ass idea of bein’ heroes out there!”

The same idea…Jane looked to Jake and met his gaze. “That almost sounds as if they’re being controlled,” She said slowly, “Like a hivemind of some sort! Almost like…” And then it hit her, a realization punctuated by another slam of the gate. “Like what the Madame has been doing to the Court and I! She doped us up on happy thoughts like Caliborn would with the jitters!”

Jake’s mouth moved as if to deny her claim. Karkat would have gotten him up to speed, of course, but Jane wouldn’t blame him if he still had doubts – but he said something different. “D-Do you really think she’s got everyone drinking from the same pitcher of fruit juice?”

“She’s more than powerful enough. I don’t see why she wouldn’t extend her control over the townspeople, too, if she had to.” Jane turned back to the crack and leaned forward. “Mister Slick, I have to get inside. The Prince of Derse should be somewhere in the city and I must speak to him!”

Slick let out a bark of a laugh. “Oh, is _that_ who that was? I thought that douchebag looked princely! Dunno how he got in, but he rode right through the crowds when they were about a couple streets away from here! Looked like he was headed to the Palace-” Something yanked him from behind, and his eye disappeared from sight, the crowds pulling him in. “HEY, GET YOUR GRIMY MITTS OFF THE SUIT! I HAVE A KNIFE AND I KNOW HOW TO USE IT!!”

Dread made Jane’s heart sink into her stomach. What could Dirk be planning if he wanted to lie in wait for her at the Palace of all places? Surely there was someone there who could impede him! Hadn’t he thought of that? She had to get inside and stop him, but…if she opened the gate, surely the townspeople would come spilling out! And they were innocents, not in their right minds, and if she let them free, they would storm the battle in the distance. Many of them could die if they got caught up in the Lord’s wrath. Jane turned to Jake, a desperate look in her eyes.

“There’s no way I can slip inside the city without loosing the citizens,” She said. The gate rocked, and something splintered above their heads. “And they’re going to get hurt if they escape! Jake, we can’t let that happen, we have a responsibility to these people! That’s why you’ve got to do what I’m going to ask you.” Jake’s eyes widened, amazed by his cousin’s gumption, but he nodded regardless, and she took a deep breath. “I need you to stay here. I need you to…corral them, keep them in line. Mister Slick and his associates, they’re men in black suits, they’ll help, but you’ve got to keep them from getting past you. _You’re_ the last line of their safety!”

Jake’s jaw dropped, and he shook his head wildly. “Jane, _no_! I refuse to leave your side! Confronting Dirk on your own isn’t safe, and I’ve got to make up for the mess I’ve caused!”

A rebellious flare of heat filled Jane, and she turned away to look at the gate. The mechanisms that kept it locked weakened with every slam from the crowds, and it was only a matter of time before it completely broke. “You are not my keeper, okay? All this time, I have been more than capeable of fighting my own battles, and this is no different! If you really want to make it up to me, then you’ll do your duty as a Duke and protect the Prospitians! They are much more important than I am!”

If Jake wanted to argue, he was not given the chance. The gate finally gave to the mob, and Jane charged into the throng atop her steed, leaving her cousin in the dust. She steeled herself against Jake’s cries, how he called out her name before the crowd swept him away. They parted for Swanson’s thundering hooves, and she urged him faster, leaning into his gait. She had eyes for only the looming form of the Palace ahead.

~*~

The crowd thinned out long before Jane entered the Palace grounds. The gate that Terezi had let her through so short a time ago had been knocked off of its hinges, and all was as eerily quiet as it had been when she had left. Jane leapt off of Swanson as soon as he came to a stop, and she noticed that Maplehoof had made a place for herself nearby, munching nonchalantly on the shrubbery. The Palace doors had been left open, and Jane closed them when she entered. The hall was dark; she had expected it to be in shambles, with the banners torn and busts toppled, but everything was how it had been left. At the end, in the throne room, she heard the sound of clashing metal, and she dashed towards it.

When she saw what was happening, Jane stopped just at the end of the hallway. Inside stood John, a large mallet in hand, and she wanted to wonder just how he could wield something so heavy when it came up to meet a long, curved blade. Though the blade’s wielder had his back to Jane, she knew who it was immediately – it was Dirk from the top of his hair to the tip of his boots. She had expected him to ride into war in Derse purple, but his pants were black, his shirt was white, his waistcoat maroon with pink stitching and there was a hint of something orange at his throat. All of his clothes looked worn, as if he had gotten into many a scrape in them, and why was she noticing all of this when he had John at his mercy? What was wrong with her? She should call out to them, pull them apart and make them see reason-

John’s eyes met hers from across the room, and he grinned a fool’s grin. “Jane! Is that you? Where’d you get your outfit, it’s so weird!”

Dirk turned around immediately. His spectacles were pointy and pristinely dark, his face void of any emotion. That was the strangest thing about him for sure. He had always been an impassive fellow, it was true, but spending time with Dirk had revealed the nuances in the twitch of a jaw and the turn of a head. For there to be nothing to discern was worrisome.

With a grunt, Dirk shoved John back with his blade and sheathed it, his gaze never leaving Jane’s form. “Well, sure did take you long enough to show up,” He said. “Tell me you at least stopped for a coffee. I’d ask for mine, but you obviously weren’t feeling generous today.”

Something moved behind him, and Jane caught sight of John’s mallet as it rose into the air. “John, _no-_ ”

That was enough for Dirk to take notice of him again, and quick as a flash he stepped away, watching as John pitched forward, his mallet slamming into the ground with a bang. The floor even cracked a bit from its impact. He looked between them, utterly bewildered. “What do you mean, no?” John asked, and jerked his head towards Dirk. “This guy barged in here and attacked me! It’d be really stupid not to defend myself!”

“I told you I was just killing time,” Dirk said cooly. “There’s nothing to gain by fighting you when the main event shows up.” A hand fell on his hilt. “Unless, of course, you’d actually prefer to die by my hand. That can be arranged.”

A spike of something hard and hot shot through Jane, and her hand found the hilt of her trident. “You wouldn’t do that,” She said. Dirk shrugged.

“I wouldn’t want to, but if it came down to that, I don’t have a problem with it.”

What in the world was Dirk saying? He hadn’t ever spoken so calmly about such a thing before. Other things, sure, far stranger things, but never about ending a life. “It won’t come to that,” Jane said, and her eyes flickered to John. “Where’s Jade? Go and stay with her.”

His jaw dropped. “But…”

Jane turned away from him, looking to Dirk and locking eyes with him. Or, at least, she hoped she did. “Please, John. Please go somewhere safe.” She could feel John’s gaze on her, but she would not meet it. To do so would give him the opportunity to argue.

“I could just knock him out,” Dirk said, “We could drag his unconscious body behind the thrones-”

“ _You won’t harm a hair on his head!_ ”

The words echoed through the room, ringing in Jane’s ears, and she could barely believe they had come from her. Her knuckles were white as she gripped her hilt as tightly as she could, and she must have been making a terribly ferocious face, for John gulped audiably.

“Uh…I think I…I think Jade is calling me!” He said, cracking a nervous smile. He hefted his mallet onto his shoulder and made for the stairs that led to the rooms of the royals, turning back at them as he went. “I’ll be right back though! So don’t do anything crazy, okay?”

He fell silent when neither of them responded. As John’s footsteps grew fainter and higher above them, Dirk walked forward, hands at the buttons of his waistcoat. Jane held her trident fast, refusing to budge.

“Good job freaking out the pipsqueak,” Dirk said. One by one, his buttons came undone, and he shrugged out of his waistcoat. There was indeed something orange around his neck, an ascot. A pin of fire opal gleamed at his throat. “You just saved me a lot of work, Jane. How considerate. Wasn’t expecting that.”

Jane frowned. She wanted to draw her trident so badly, but something inside of her told her to wait. “What’s wrong with you, Dirk? Why did you threaten my brother? You’ve never made that sort of threat before!” Her cheeks reddened when he dropped his waistcoat to the floor. “And why in the highest of heavens are you taking your clothes off??”

If Dirk was anybody else, he might have sneered at her question. If he was himself, he would have smirked. “I’d just prefer not to make someone wash your blood out of that later. It’s so hard to tell when you’ve gotten all the stains out in maroon.” He had drawn close now, enough so that he could lean in and shove his face into hers. Jane tried not to pull away. “As if I’d strip for the benefit of a liar.” If Dirk’s face held no emotion, that was because his words expressed all. They tapered into a seething hiss as he spoke, soaked in something bitter that rubbed into the wounds in Jane’s heart. She could not help how her head lowered, and she tried to ignore how Dirk drew closer still. “Don’t misunderstand, though. You’re more than just a liar. You’re a traitor,” He said, his breath hot on her forehead, “I don’t see your supposed reason for weaseling your way into my Court. Seems to me there’s a possibility that helping Jake was never your objective at all.” He paused to glance around the room, and then grabbed a fistful of Jane’s hair, pulling it tight and ignoring how her face twisted in pain and the choked cry that warbled in her throat. “I’ll give you credit where credit is due. You didn’t bring backup, and you sent someone away just to confront me all on your own. That’s almost honorable. I guess even you have an ounce of fucking decency.”

Jane’s head jerked up in defiance, her mouth setting into a scowl and tears misting her vision. His words more than any before were the most cutting she had ever heard. Thinking clearly or not, Dirk was evidently hurt by what she had revealed to him – by letter no less! – and she could not blame him. He was lashing out, but she knew that did not make what he was doing right.

“I won’t…I won’t say you’re wrong.” Jane breathed hard through her nose, trying to will the pain away. It was not working. “I kept things from you. That’s just as awful as a lie. I abandoned you in the wilderness, and that makes me a traitor. I must confess, I…don’t know how coming here alone makes me honorable.” She swallowed hard. “But I have always had Jake’s safety at heart! You of all people should be able to understand that-” He yanked harder, and Jane pulled back, but that only served to hurt her more, and she cried out.

“Don’t you ever presume to know me,” Dirk whispered, “Don’t you fucking dare. You ain’t got that kinda priviledge, Princess.”

The last word rolled off of his tongue with particular relish and scorn, and that was when Jane knew. Something stinging bloomed in her chest, and a lump rose in her throat as she realized why her friend had changed, why he did all of this. “That’s it, isn’t it?” She asked, “I’m…I’m the Princess of Prospit…and now you hate me because of it?”

Slowly, as if a cruel mercy, Dirk’s fingers untwined from Jane’s hair, and she stumbled when he let go, knees shaking from pain. “‘Now’?” He asked, “The fuck did I just say, Jane? Don’t presume to know me.” He drew back from her, and it would make sense for him to look at her like she was some repulsive thing, like he was disgusted just being in her presence, but only his words did that. His face said nothing. “I have always hated the Princess of Prospit. I hate what she stands for. I hate…” His breath hitched slightly. “I hate that everyone thinks I’m fated to fall in love with her and it’ll make the world all sunshine and rainbows and prancing pink unicorns and I _hate_ that.” He jabbed a thumb at his chest, and finally, Jane thought she saw the slightest indication of anger in his brows. “Maybe I don’t want to be forced into that kind of destiny. Did you ever think of that?”

The question reverberated in Jane’s chest. She hung her head. “I…I suppose I didn’t,” She said. It was true. Had she ever thought of the other side of the coin when she imagined that prince in his amethyst tower? Had she ever considered that he might have feelings, too? Not when she was little, only when she had been confronted with them – only when she had gotten to know him. Jane’s head shot up. “But-”

“Whatever objection you’ve got doesn’t matter.” A hand fell to the hilt of his sword. “You don’t give a damn about be. Why not hate you in turn?”

The scrape of the blade was what snapped Jane out of the pain in her chest. It was still there, but now her mind fought against it, flooding her with sense. Dirk was drawing his weapon. He meant to kill her, here in cold blood, and she knew there had to be some part of him that was not his own. His contempt and frustration could be genuine, but so long as the Cherubim lived, so long as he bore that stone at his throat, Dirk did not have control of herself. There might be no getting through to him, Jane realized, and she may very well die, but if she could get at that stone, if she could free him…then that was all she would ever need.

“Wait!”

The sword paused mid-draw, and Jane threw her hands up in front of her.

“…What do you want now?”

Jane blinked back her tears and stood straight, shoulders back, feet apart. “Is it really satisfying just to kill me?” She asked. “Not when you so obviously…despise me. I mean, all you get is one cut and that’s it for me!” Jane was rambling at this point, barely sure where her words would take her. “Surely you’ve been waiting all your life for this moment. Shouldn’t it be more exciting? More of a challenge?”

Slowly, Dirk resheathed his sword, and he titled his head, humming as he mulled over her proposal. “…You know what?” He said, folding his arms, “Yeah. Why not. It might be worth it to make this something worth retelling.” He paused, watching as Jane breathed a sigh of relief. “How about a duel, then?”

She blinked. “A – a duel? Like the kind the nobles have?”

Dirk nodded. “Back to back, ten paces, turn and fight. Loser is the first to be disarmed, and the winner gets to do whatever they want to them.” He turned and walked to the center of the throne room. “If I win, I get to bring your head back to show said nobles. After that display, they need a reminder of who’s in charge around here.” When he stopped, he turned to look at Jane over his shoulder. “And if you win…well, I know what you want, and I’m not going to let you have me so easily.”

His ease and assurance frightened Jane. Dirk had restrained himself during their practices on the march, so while having him as her opponent was no anomaly, she knew she was no match for him when he was actually fighting to win. But what could she do? Even if she did not win, if she could just get at that stone, there might be a chance to talk some sense into him. She came to Dirk, her body shaking, heart pounding at her chest like a man at his drums, and she turned her back to face his, shoulder blades brushing. Jane choked down the thrill the warm touch sent through her body; it was too much like her dream and yet so different, tinged with hatred instead of kindness. “I – I accept those terms,” Jane said.

“Good.”

They did not count their paces aloud. They did not need to. Dirk thought her a sort of honorable, and assumed she would not turn before the tenth step, and Jane…well, she was not sure she could trust Dirk at all in this state. But she dared not try and provoke him. With the turn of a heel they faced each other again, and in an instant both weapons were drawn. Jane found herself falling into the stance Rose had drilled into her so long ago, and her breath was long and slow as she willed herself not to tense. The Prince stood before her, both hands on the hilt of his sword, and she could feel his eyes bore into her behind his spectacles. He was calm. He was focused. He did not intend to lose.

There was very little standstill at the onset of their duel, for to wait around for the other to strike was not Dirk’s style. With a stride that was more flash than step he appeared before Jane, sword held aloft, and she could not even cry out in surprise. Her trident came up to meet the blade, but as soon as they clashed Dirk pulled it back again. It came from the side now, and she barely managed to parry, a foot sliding back to brace herself.

It was slow going, but Dirk’s strikes were quick and powerful, and with each one Jane found herself being pushed back. She dared not look behind her to see where, fearful that she might miss the flash of his blade and find herself disarmed, but she knew very well that to let him continue was dangerous. He could easily back her into a corner, or down the corridor, or-

The back of her leg knocked into the stairs, and Jane grabbed the banister with her free hand. Her trident came up to meet another blow, and this time Dirk let his blade linger, pushing her back. The only sign of struggle he showed was the sweat beading at his brow, and he leaned into his push, forcing her upwards.

Their weapons were at a standstill as they climbed, but Jane did not think disarmament was Dirk’s goal here. With every step higher, he began to angle his force. Jane felt her side brush into the banister until it dug into the shelf of her hip. Was he trying to force her over the edge? She allowed herself a glance downward. They hadn’t climbed very high yet, but the further Dirk pushed, the more likely it was that he would push her further until the fall could kill her. Her grip on the banister tightened.

“Just what do you think you’re trying to pull here?” She asked, pushing back with her trident. Dirk grabbed the railing himself, wobbling precariously on a step.

“I could ask you the same thing. All you’re doing is defending, why don’t you attack?”

“I don’t want to attack you!” Jane exclaimed. She could feel Dirk pushing back against her, trying to force her higher. “I don’t want to hurt a friend!”

She flinched as he gave one more push, clearly trying to get her to fall onto the stairs, but she held her ground. “Pretty sure we already established that we’re _not_ friends.”

With a grunt, Jane shoved Dirk back and heaved herself over the banister. For a brief moment she wanted to scream as she dropped, and then her heels hit the ground and pain shot up through her legs like lightning bolts. She really did scream then, tumbling backwards onto her bottom like it was some sort of prat fall. For a moment she could not speak, and she glanced up, her eyes squinted-

Dirk had leapt after her, sword held aloft for a strike. Jane scrambled back immediately, her legs protesting in their pain, and she just managed to get to her feet by the time he hit the ground, his sword clanging as it hit the floor. He wasted no time in rising to meet her, striking as if he had not been phased, and Jane nearly tripped over herself trying to block him. His swipes were more frantic now, faster and much less accurate, and Jane could feel snags and tears in her clothes before the hairlike cuts bloomed in their wake. Life sparked at them before they had the chance to bleed.

“M-Maybe I’m not _your_ friend,” Jane said, though it was an ashy sentiment in her mouth, “But you’re still mine! All of you are! And all I want-” She winced as his blade came down between the tines of her trident. “-All I want is to save everyone!”

The weapons shook with the force their wielders exerted to keep them together. Dirk had grit his teeth now, and his nose flared with every breath, but still there was no hint of a proper emotion on his face. “Interesting,” Dirk said, “And by that, I mean that’s an interesting way to put your goals. Very self-righteous.” He let Jane’s trident slide along his blade until it met his hilt. “You should elaborate before you lose. I’m not going to show you the kindness of last words.”

 “Why should I bother? It’s not like you’ll listen to reason!” She jerked her trident a few times, trying to dislodge the sword from Dirk’s hands, but it did not budge. “Caliborn’s got you under his thumb just like he’s had everyone else! It’s the Cherubs that are the enemy, Dirk, not I! They’ve been controlling both royal families for generations!” Her hands hurt from gripping her trident so tightly, but she was too afraid of what might happen should she give an inkling of that pain. “I know it’s difficult to believe, but it’s true. We’re all pawns to them, and that isn’t right! Our freedom…the freedom of our friends and family and people! That’s what I’m fighting for, but I won’t hurt you to get it!!!”

There was the briefest flicker of something on Dirk’s face, something unreadable but so clearly an emotion, and then with a jerk he twisted his sword, attempting to disarm her. Instead Jane pitched sideways, crying out as she fell down, and he was upon her in an instant, pinning the hand that still held fast to her weapon with his knee. Above, his sword hung level with her heart, and she could feel his glare through the lenses of his spectacles.

Jane panted desperately. “It’s true,” She said, her voice weak. “I swear on my life that it’s true.”

She heard Dirk’s hands tighten around his hilt. “Yeah. I know it’s true.”

All the wind rushed out of Jane, the adrenaline that had kept her on her toes fizzling away. “…What?”

“Are you deaf? I said I know it’s true. Or, rather, I’m not all that surprised, and the reason doesn’t matter. I know Caliborn’s controlling me. I let him.”

She would have propped herself up on her elbows if she did not fear being stabbed. “You what?!” She exclaimed, “Why? For God’s sake, _why??_ ”

“Because if not me, then who would he go to?” It was the first time he had properly raised his voice since Jane had found him. “He’d get into Dave’s head, or the trolls, or my people. If it’s just me…” The blade shook. “Then he won’t hurt them. If it’s just me, then I can be strong enough to protect them…” He paused to take a breath, and his blade stilled again. “And I can forget about Roxy and Nepeta, and I can kill you, and none of it will hurt.”

And that was the moment that Jane’s heart broke for this boy again.

“Dirk…” She reached up with her free hand, ignoring the dangerous blade above her, ignoring the pressure on her other arm that would surely leave a bruise. “He’s already slithered his way into everyone he’s met. Calliope too – the Madame,” She clarified, “She’s just as bad.” Her fingers brushed the smooth opal, and before Dirk could jerk away she latched into it, feeling his Adam’s Apple bob as he swallowed. “I meant what I said about generations. You can kill me right here, Dirk, go on. Skewer me, sever my head, beat me. That’s what really doesn’t matter. They’ll just gather everyone up and bring us back to life, and we’ll go through wars and trials again and again and again. We won’t remember what’s happened today, or yesterday. We won’t know. We won’t know, and it’s _wrong_ , Dirk. It’s unfair to our people to have their leaders upheaved so often, it’s unfair to our courts to kill each other over the grudges of Gods.”

“Let me go, Jane,” Dirk said, “That shit doesn’t matter. Let me go. I want to end this.”

“So do I!” She exclaimed, and she tightened her grasp. “I don’t want this sort of game to go on anymore! You and I are more than pieces in a puzzle, I know your feelings matter!” Despite the tears that formed in her eyes, Jane found herself smiling, happy in the face of what was sure to be failure. “I care about you, Dirk, from the bottom of my heart-”

“-Let me _go_ -”

“-Even if you’ll never feel the same about me!”

Jane’s body reacted instinctively, and her knees pulled up for only a moment before she kicked him in the chest, the opal pin still in her hand. It ripped clean off of the ascot, and she threw it behind her, never wanting to see it again. Dirk stumbled backwards, his spectacles knocked from his face and his sword fallen from his hand. He dropped onto the ground, curling forward, a hand grasping his chest and his breath wheezing from the hit. Jane hurried to him, not afraid now that he wasn’t armed, and took him by the shoulders.

“Oh, Dirk, I’m sorry! I hadn’t meant to hit you that hard, I just – it’s the stones, okay? That’s how they hone in on us, and I had to get it off of you somehow…Dirk?”

Something was wrong, Jane realized, when Dirk’s breath did not begin to even out, but instead became more ragged, as if he were being struck in the chest over and over again. She lifted his chin up with her free hand and gasped when she saw his eyes, the bags underneath them darker than ever. Their whites had pinkened, and the hollowness of the orange did not become vibrant with clarity, but instead remained unfocused and constricted in agony. It was as if a dam had burst within him, and his face was free to contort in whichever way it pleased – his mouth had pulled back in a grimace, his forehead had scrunched tightly. Life fizzled at her fingertips, and Jane pressed her hand over his own. “What’s wrong? Did I hit something I shouldn’t have? What’s hurting you?”

With a groan, Dirk leaned forward, pressing his forehead into her shoulder. He was shaking. He never shook. “Hurts,” He gasped, “Son of a – _fffffffffuck_ , hurts, it fucking hurts-”

“What hurts, Dirk??” The other arm, the one with the trident still in hand, came around so she could hug him tight. “I can’t help you if I don’t know what’s wrong!” Was it even possible for her to heal something inside of him? Jane had no idea, but that didn’t mean she wouldn’t try.

His hand slipped from his chest, and she pressed her own hand there. That’s when she felt it, a hammering too fast to be natural, too strong to be comfortable. “Heart,” Dirk said. His breath was huffed and strained. “Like’s something’s…ripping it apart, I can’t…!”

Jane held him tighter, unable to ignore the panic his words ignited. “It’s okay,” She said, more for herself than for him, “You’ll be okay! Just…breathe, remember to breathe-”

“-I’m fucking breathing, don’t you tell me-” His words cut off with a strangled cry. Whatever this was, it wouldn’t simply pass. A great dread rose within Jane, and she quivered and shook from her very core. Whatever was going on in Dirk’s mind, even if he’d still kill her later – she refused to lose him. Jane shut her eyes, thinking only of the cyan fire that burned within her, willing it to come out, but it itched underneath her skin and refused to leak into Dirk.

“It’s not going to work like that, love.”

The voice broke Jane’s concentration, and she looked up. On the edges of the throne room stood the Madame, clothed in a white dress. There was a frown to her mouth, a forlornness to her too-big eyes. She stepped forward, her dress rustling and flowing with every movement.

“That boy’s been my brother’s toy for too long,” The Madame continued, “It’s rooted into the cracks of his soul, and you’ve pulled it out. It’s a good thing you did,” She added, and her mouth turned up into a smile, “But now he needs something to fill in those cracks. He won’t survive for long if something isn’t done.”

The Madame paused, eyes widening, when Jane raised her trident, tines pointed outward. “You mean if you don’t take control of him,” she said

“It’s a necessary evil,” Calliope said, shrugging. “And it will do him a world of good to be with us. He seems like such an unhappy fellow. Now, why don’t you put that nasty thing down and-”

“ _No!_ ”

The smile fell. “No?”

Dirk was shaking worse now, his breath peppered with creaky groans. Jane glared at the Cherub who had loved her so dearly, on whom she had always relied, and kept her weapon steady. “You’re no worse than Caliborn,” She said, “You only want Dirk and everyone under your control because of some game you’re playing, and the minute things turn sour for you, we’ll all be forced to die. I _know_ , Madame. And no matter what you promise me, it could never compare to our freedom!”

Calliope flinched. Her clawed hands grabbed fistfuls of her dress; they were never meant to harm, those claws, but they were still menacing, still able to tear flesh asunder. “You weren’t supposed to know,” She said.

“I figured that much out on my own!”

“You shouldn’t know!” Calliope exclaimed. Tears flowed freely down the hollows of her swirled cheeks. “Do you think I like seeing you all die? Again and again you die, and I can never make it stop…” She let go of her dress to wipe at her eyes, wrists waging a war against her grief and shame. “I am _not_ as bad as my brother! He is odious and cruel. He _wants_ you all to die, he knows it hurts me every time! I just want to see all of you smiling and alive! I…” She sniffled, and in that moment she seemed smaller, a frail child in a dress much too large for her slight frame, not a Goddess at all, but something to be pitied. “I never wanted to lose any of you…”

It had to be an act, Jane thought, and yet her trident wavered. There was something about her words that felt…genuine. Perhaps it was the nostalgia of happy times, or perhaps it was the tears, but part of her was unsure that she could truly steel herself against the Madame.

Then Dirk heaved in her arms, and Jane’s heart wrenched. “I’m sorry,” Jane said, “I truly am, Madame. But you lost me when you let Caliborn take me away.”

“Don’t say that!” Calliope wailed. There was a rush of ozone, and the room danced with lime sparks. Colors from the walls and floor, from the windows and the stairs, they all began to blend together in a surrealist mayhem. This was a tantrum, Jane realized, with Space at its core and with no time for it. How could she fight this? How could she _defeat_ this? Was it even possible?

It was in that moment that Jane wished she hadn’t come alone, and it was in that moment that a scream pierced through the air. The Madame, startled, looked up towards where the royal bedrooms were, and the sparking intensified. A shape appeared above her head, that of a body flickering green, and as it hung in the air, Jane heard something she never expected:

A gunshot.

In the blink of an eye the body-shaped light solidified, revealing itself to be Jade of all people. When she hit the ground, the room snapped back into place, no longer runny like a poached egg, and the green sparks disappeared. That in itself was a relief…

…And then Calliope dropped to the ground, her head lolling to the side. A perfect, round hole sat just between her eyes, lime flowing from it freely. The Madame was dead.

(Unbeknownst to Jane at the time, it was in that instant where, battered and bruised and in one case blinded, the armies of Prospit and Derse landed their last hit on the Lord, his head raggedly severed from his body by a broken blade.)

The only sound Jane could make was a high, soft exclamation. Not a gasp or a cry, just a sound, and her mouth hung open in disbelief. She looked between the Madame’s prone form and Jade’s stirring body, and could not bring herself to say a word. Dirk had stilled in her arms.

There was a clamor at the stairs, and Jane looked up. John was there, and he was panting, mallet in hand and cheeks red as he hurried down. He jumped the last few steps, the Breeze cushioning his fall, and he looked between his cousin and his sister, at a loss for what to do.

Jane had to roll her eyes at that. “I’m fine and it’s no use helping the Madame now. Go to Jade.”

He nodded jerkily and ran to his cousin, helping her sit up as if it were the most natural thing in the world, his words quiet and his questions insistent, but Jade would not answer him. Her eyes were trained on the Madame, and her body shook violently. They would be alright, Jane was sure of it, and she turned to Dirk, the beginnings of a smile of her face, but his eyes were closed, and his face had relaxed, as if he were finally sleeping well.

Jane blinked. “Dirk?”

When he did not respond, she noticed something odd, that the hammering underneath her hand on his chest had come to a stop. She pulled back from him, and he flopped a bit, unable to support his own weight. Jane placed her trident down to lay him out, feeling at his neck underneath his jaw for a pulse, but there was nothing to be felt. She let her hand hover over his nose and mouth, but no breath puffed out to meet it, and her blood ran cold.

“DIRK!”

John and Jade looked over as she grabbed the Prince’s shoulders, shaking him, as if that would rouse him. Something wet fell onto his face, but Jane didn’t know where it had come from. It couldn’t rain inside. “Come on,” She said, “This is a terrible joke! You wake up this instant, mister!” Her voice cracked, and her vision went spotty. “A Prince shouldn’t keep a lady waiting…!”

But he did not wake, and a hand fell on Jane’s back. She shrugged it off, and its owner did not bother to try and put it back.

“Is he dead…?” Jade asked. There was a light smack. “Ow! What the heck was that for?”

“Oh my God, Jade, you can’t just ask people if they’re dead,” John hissed. Jane’s shoulders shook. Dirk couldn’t be dead – not when she had promised to help him, not when he still had family to return to and people to lead, not when he would grow cold hating her with his last breath. What a way to go if he was, hurting and confused with cracks in his soul. There had to be some way to bring him back. The Life within her strained and roared, and she could just imagine the licks of its flame seeping down into those cracks, pulling them together stitch by stitch, but it could never do that if it couldn’t come out.

And that was when Jane had an idea. She looked to John and Jade, who had come to stand beside her in some form of solidarity for her loss, and she cleared her throat to catch their attention. They both looked so small and scared.

“You should…” Oh, this would not do, her voice wavered like a leaf in the wind. She took a breath and tried again. “You should go and get the other nobles. Prospitian and D-Dersite. Tell them what’s happened and bring them here.”

“Won’t the Dersites try to hurt us?” John asked. Jane shook her head.

“No. They’re…they’re on my side. If you’re really nervous, go and fetch Jake to speak on your behalf. He should be wherever the townspeople are.”

“I-Is this my brother Jake?” Jade asked. For a moment, the haunted look in her eyes disappeared, and was replaced with something awed and hopeful. “How will we know which one is Jake?”

It was such a simple, innocent question, and Jane found mirth bubbling up in her chest despite herself. “Hoo…oh, you’ll know him when you see him, I assure you. But please, hurry and go.”

Jade nodded and scurried out of the room, shell shocked for certain and possibly excited, but John lingered. His hold on his mallet had loosened, and he swung it idly in his fingertips.

“The last time I left you alone,” He said quietly, “All this stuff happened. Nothing bad’s gonna happen again if I go, will it? Are you sure you don’t need any help?”

Jane shook her head. “I promise. Go, John. Goodness knows you should meet Jake, too.”

It seemed an eternity before he turned and left, his footsteps echoing down the corridor. When the door finally shut behind them, Jane grabbed her trident.

“The Life has to come out,” She said to herself. It was a struggle to keep her voice calm, and not give in to the frantic panic that filled her. “And to do that, it needs…an opening.”

Carefully, Jane pressed her left palm to the middle tine of her trident, and took a shuddering breath. With eyes screwed shut, she pressed her palm down, and cried out as pain shot through her arm. Blood dripped down the golden steel before she dropped it to the ground, gasping for breath and fighting the tingle of Life that hurried forward to heal the wound.

“No…not yet…hold on…!”

With her intact hand, Jane pulled Dirk into her lap, and she laid the other over his heart, watching with a tired kind of curiosity as her blood seeped and spread into his white, white shirt. When she exhaled, she let Life rush out, cyan catching onto the red. Soon it enveloped Jane entirely, and then Dirk, and she could feel it rooting around in him, searching for what was broken as it mended her own skin. The deeper it sunk, the more the world around her faded into blue, and the less she felt of pain or grief…

…In fact, it was almost as if she left the plane of the physical realm entirely. There was naught before her now but an expanse of blue, so light and cottony that it was almost white to the eye, and she floated in it alone. There was something warm in her hand, a little heart nestled in her palm, and she peered at it curiously. On the right side, it looked as if someone had cut a hole in it, and from it radiated many cracks. At the moment Life leaked through them, cyan tendrils prodding the fissures, attempting to sear them closed, but they made no difference.

“I bet you never thought a soul was so small,” Said a voice. It was chillingly familiar, with an ease Jane had not heard in a very long time. She turned to face it, but no form met her gaze.

“Who’s there?” She called. The voice laughed, and she turned again – still nothing. There was something warm on her back, and her mind sprang to a beach and peeled oranges.

“It’s a shame you can’t just Lifey it together like you can a broken bone. Souls don’t really fall under that category, it’s kind of tricky.” A hand reached out to cover the little heart, so much larger than hers and calloused for its own reasons. “When I was a kid, I always thought they’d look more like a third lung for some reason. A big, silver lung. Kind of weird when you think about it, but then again, I’m a weird kind of guy, so I guess it fits.”

Jane clasped her other hand over the speaker’s wrist. “Is this another dream?” She asked. “Please…if it is, don’t play this hiding game again! I want to see you!”

With a gentle tug, Jane was turned around, and came face to face with him – with Dirk. His spectacles were gone, and his eyes were clear and bright, rested and healthy and all the things he so desperately needed to be. He wore that funny little half smile. Jane laughed despite herself, her mouth turning up in a grin to match him.

“Oh, goodness,” She said, “Now I know I’m dreaming. You don’t look ill.”

Dirk’s eyes crinkled at the edges as he scoffed. “Geez, thanks for that compliment. I do try not to look like death warmed over on a daily basis, it’s good to hear I’m succeeding.” That only served to make Jane laugh harder, and soon he was too, and it was as if wars and Cherub games and hurtful words had never existed. There was just the two of them and this little soul in endless blue, and nothing else mattered – which was, admittedly, good for the soul. It needed all the attention it could get.

The pair looked at it in Jane’s hand when their laughter faded, both in awe. “How do you know it’s a soul?” Jane asked. “It could very well be a heart. Or maybe it’s just a dream, too.”

His eyes flickered to her briefly. “Dunno if you’d believe me if I told you. It’s pretty crazy. Like put me in a straight jacket, lock me in a padded cell and swallow the key crazy.”

“I think I’d be willing to believe most anything at this point,” Jane said. She rocked her hand slightly, the soul barely a sensation on her skin. It was softer than soft and smoother than smooth, nearly ethereal. “If you ever wanted me to take your word for something, this is the time.”

The larger hand moved so that it cupped hers from underneath, as if to add another shell to protect the little soul. “I know what it is,” Dirk said, “Because I came from it. Someone who studies the Art of Heart can break their soul into pieces if they study hard enough, but I’m…kind of an accident. The souvenir kid from a family vacation, if you will. I’m a piece of Dirk’s self that broke off.”

Jane looked up, and so did he, and their eyes met in perfect coincidence. “I thought that soul splitting hulabaloo was just him being a bit mad,” She said, and for a moment she thought his half-smile faltered.

“It wasn’t.”

“Oh. Well…alright, then. So you’re what’s missing from this soul?”

“Pretty much. And I’m pretty sure he’s known I’ve been missing, too. You can’t really ignore a hole in your heart when you’re thirteen and lonely. If anything, that makes it worse.” The dream Dirk looked away, and his smile really did fade this time. “I was made when the flesh and blood me wanted someone to keep an eye out for that cousin of yours. He couldn’t do it, he could barely get close to Jake, but a piece of yourself that no one could see? That could do anything. And when I did break off, Caliborn’s patented fear and hatred took my place.” He paused, and his eyes, they laid his thoughts bare to her no matter how he tried to hide them. That must have been why he was so adamant about the spectacles in the waking world. It was uncomfortable for him to be an open book. “Promise you won’t call me a creep for this next part, okay? I literally had no choice in the matter.”

Jane tried to smile warmly at him, to be encouraging. “I promise. What happened next?”

“I, uh…I kind of…had to live in Jake’s head…when I broke off. I’d have faded away without someplace to stay.”

It was a long time before Jane could respond, her brow furrowing quizzically. “So you…could read his thoughts,” She said slowly, the idea settling sourly in her stomach. He shook his head.

“It’s not like that. I lived in there, yeah, but it’s not…I couldn’t tell what he was thinking, okay? I couldn’t change him from the inside out. All I could do was sit around and watch his life through his eyes. I couldn’t even talk to him, not with all the Cherub gunk everywhere. It takes a clear head on a person’s end to chat with a splinter.”

“That’s still creepy!” Jane exclaimed. The dream Dirk’s head jerked up, distress written into every line on his face. “I’m sorry, I know I promised I wouldn’t call you that, but it really is! What’s next? Did you jump ship when Jake was having his forgetful episode? Did you seek refuge in my mind?”

There was a long pause, and his mouth hung open in surprise. She stared straight on, trying to ignore the prickle of suspicion creeping up the length of her spine. It made sense, didn’t it? If this Dirk hid in Jake’s mind, he would have fled the moment he thought there was danger. And who else had been around to help Jake other than her? No one! And she, too, had been full of Cherub influence until Terezi had stepped in, so of course she would not have noticed someone lurking in the recesses of her thoughts until he could reach out and contact her-

Jane gasped, heat flooding her cheeks, and the hand that had grabbed Dirk’s wrist flew to cover her mouth. “Y-You’ve been with me all this time,” She stammered, “You’ve been watching m-me! And you’re the D-Dirk from my dream! You know that I…!”

The distress melted from his expression like butter on warm bread, replaced with something sheepish and gentle. “Sorry.”

“‘Sorry’??” She smacked him lightly on the arm, and he winced. “It’s creepy when you spy on my cousin, whom I assume your feelings towards match your double, but it’s downright _uncouth_ to do the same to a lady!”

He rubbed his arm and frowned. “Yeah, I know. And I’m sorry.” Dirk did not speak with any hint of indignation, which was what struck Jane as most unusual. She felt her hackles lower as he continued. “It was a major breech of privacy, and if the real me knew I was hanging out in your head while he was pelting you with puppet ass, he wouldn’t have stood for it, and that’d be justified. I knew I should have gone to someone else the moment I had the opportunity.”

“So why didn’t you?” Jane asked. The half smile returned.

“Because I like you.”

It was as if a thousand doves had been released in Jane’s chest, their flapping wings brushing against her insides. She bit the inside of her cheek and tried to ignore the welling warmth. “Don’t you tease me, buster, I am not in the mood!” If anything, her ire made his smile grow, though he stopped short of laughing. That would have been too patronizing.

“I’m not,” He said, holding his free hand up in peace. “I’m the only Dirk who’s ever going to give it to you straight, Jane, no twists and turns, no secret passages, no doubling back on the meanings. I saw you when Jake saw you from thirteen on, working your ass off for that thankless bastard, and then I got to see the world through you like a bird perched on your shoulder. And you, Miss Jane, are nothing short of likeable.” The hand came to cup her cheek, but she dared not lean into it, barely sure of what was going on. “You’re brave even when you’re shaking in your boots. You’re willing to risk your life for others, and to do whatever it takes to get the job done. You’re nice, but you don’t let anybody walk all over you, and you stand up for what you believe is right. Even when you’re knocked down, you get right back up again. And,” He said, leaning closer, “You _care_.”

Jane knew who he implied that care was for. It was heavy on her heart, perhaps called by other names at other times, but at its core it was care, steady and unrelenting in the face of the world. It would always stay with her, and whether a figment of her imagination or a warm body, it would always be for Dirk. She should be mad at him, she shouldn’t be smiling, but the corners of her mouth had turned up as tears beaded at her eyes, and her chest sang with pain.

As a thumb brushed those tears away with a care that might only exist in the cottony blue, Jane realized what had to be done. She curled her fingers around the little soul.

“I have to put you back, don’t I?” She asked. Dirk nodded.

“Dude needs something to complete him,” He said, “And it can’t be someone else’s desires. Just his own. That’s what really belongs, right?”

Jane nodded once, a bit jerkily. “Can my Life do that?”

“I’m not sure. It might help stick me into place, cauterize those cracks. We won’t know until we try.”

“And if it doesn’t work?”

“…Let’s not think about that.”

Carefully, Dirk brought the hand on her cheek to rest over her cupped one, enveloping it into both of his. An orange glow bled into the blue around them, as if day and sunset had joined together in a dance of color. Life flared between his fingers, entwining him in its grasp to pull his very essence into his long awaited home. He looked at Jane with a funny kind of sadness, the kind where the smile reaches your eyes and yet still no glee can come of it.

 “I think it goes without saying that you’re not going to see me again – this me,” He said. “I’ll just be part of a whole. There can be only one Dirk.”

It wasn’t funny by a long shot, but a chuckle still bubbled up in Jane’s throat. “Hoo hoo…I figured that might be the case. But it’s fine. You…you _are_ Dirk. Every part of a person’s self…that’s still the whole person.”

Dirk leaned close, brow touching brow. Breath brushed Jane’s cheek, her lips. “I knew I was right in liking you,” He said, “You really _care_.”

And then everything went dark.

~*~

When John and Jade returned to the throne room, having gathered all the nobles and royals they could find – which was all of them, by some miraculous feat, some unconscious and most injured – the Madame’s body had dissolved into dust, and a Princess had fallen to the ground, asleep with her arms around a Prince that was very

much

alive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I should not have stayed up as late as I did editing this for you guys. I have work in the morning. But after this there's just two chapters left, and I have metaphorically poured my blood, sweat, and tears into this chapter.
> 
> I've been waiting so long to share this part...and now I finally get to do it. I'm so glad the falling action should be just as enjoyable to write.


	25. Adoration

There was no shot in the dark that roused Jane from slumber. For the first time in a long time – perhaps for the first time ever – she slept as long as her body wished to sleep. There were moments of clarity, yes, times when there’d be a voice in her ear and a hand at her head, but none of it was worth the effort to respond to. Her limbs seized with heaviness, and again she dipped below the waves, as if she were drifting to the bottom of the deepest ocean trench, bubbles blossoming from her mouth and nose to serve as the one trail to find her.

Thankfully, that was not truly the case. When her eyes finally opened there was still a weakness to her body, tucked in tight and neat under a coverlet of summer sky. She was in her room, high atop the Palace, and it was strangley dim outside. It took her a moment to hear the pitter patter of rain on her windows. She was alone in the room, and though she had only just awoken, Jane itched to know how the others fared, Dirk especially. There was an anxiousness in not having his weight and warmth in her arms, not when he had been in such dire straights the last time she saw him.With great effort Jane sat up, struggling to push her blankets away. Someone had dressed her in a night gown, she noticed. How considerate.

She swung her legs over the side of the bed, and the moment she put weight on her feet, they wobbled dangerously and the world tilted. A jolt of pain shot through her chin when she hit the floor, and Jane let out a cry of surprise, half a mangled swear on her tongue. No sooner had she exclaimed, the door swung open.

“Sweet Calamity, Jane!” Footsteps rushed over, and large, familiar hands pulled her up, easily setting her back onto the bed. Jake’s panic filled her vision, the skin dark under his eyes. “What are you doing? You could’ve just hollered if you wanted something, I’ve been outside your door all this time – oh,” He pulled back, running a hand through his hair. It was already extraordinarily mussed, as if he’d been running his hands through it often. “Right. You startled me there, I plumb forgot you’ve been snoozing all this time! Of course you wouldn’t know to holler, I’m sorry.”

He probably would have continued to ramble if Jane did not reach out to him, fingers catching on his clothes. From the looks of them, he’d borrowed them from John, for the sleeves of his tunic were about an inch behind his wrists and strained too tightly at the elbows. “Slow down, Jake” Jane said, and then she paused, taken aback by how dry and soft her voice had become. She cleared her throat and tried again. “What do you mean when you say ‘all this time’?”

“Isn’t it obvious? I mean ‘all this time’, of course!”

She groaned. “Okay, but how much time IS that?”

Jake blinked. He removed his hand from his hair to bring it to his chin as if he were pondering something. “It’s a little foggy,” he said, “Everyone’s been in a right mad state. Not mad as in angry, but more like a frienzied pack of tiny, yippy hounds. I don’t think I’ve slept well, either, been too worried about you, and that throws it all for a loop. But I think it’s been about…” He tutted. “Three days, perhaps?”

Jane felt her mouth move, but no words came out. Her grip on Jake’s clothes tightened, and she had pulled him close. “Three _days_?!” She finally exclaimed. “So much can happen in that time! Jake, why didn’t anyone wake me up sooner? What have I missed?”

“You really shouldn’t fret-” Jake began, but she pulled away from her cousin and tried to leave her bed again.

“I’ve got to know how everyone’s doing! You can’t just tell me not to worry!” With a frown he reached for her, hands gently pushing her shoulders down, and she squirmed in his hold.

“But you’re in no condition to get up and worry-”

“I’ll tell you whether I’m in condition or not-”

“The General’s going to have my head stuffed and mounted above a fireplace if he sees you up and about-”

“ _Jake_.” Jane fixed him with a hard stare. “I don’t care if I can’t walk, I don’t care if I should stay in bed. If it’s really been three days, I…” She paused to swallow, a knot resting in her throat. “I want to see everyone for myself. I know there must be people who are hurting, and it’s my duty to do all I can for them. Don’t you think so?”

The Duke blinked, eyes bright despite their exhaustion, and his hands pulled back. For once it seemed that he was actually thinking, and not just letting her words wash over him like a rushing brook over stones and silt. He heaved a sigh. “ _Shucks_ , Jane. I’m just looking out for you. Haven’t I always done that?”

She folded her arms in front of her chest. It was true; save for how this whole mess started, Jake had always been there for her when he could. But she had to stand on her own now, whenever she could for as long as she could. Jane felt it to the core of her very bones that such a thing was what a real ruler did, and seeing as there were no Cherubs to impede her, she should start as soon as possible.

“I don’t need looking out for,” Jane said, “Help, most certainly. But I have responsibilities. _We_ have responsibilities.”

“Oh, I’ve learned that already,” Jake said with a chuckle. “You were quite adamant about that particular when you left me in the dust with that mob.”

Jane glanced down, nibbling on her bottom lip. “You’re not sore about that, are you?”

“Well, my legs are sore from kicking a couple of the rowdier blokes in the chest, but to be fair, they smacked my shins up black and blue.” He reached down and hiked up a pant leg for Jane to see, and she gasped at the marks. “Thinking about it…I might understand what you mean. You want to work through the pain, I’d guess.” Jake gestured to her legs. “But you literally cannot walk! By Jove, what else can you do but rest?”

She looked up from those bruised legs, truthfully worried for her cousin, but an idea was forming in her mind, and she leaned forward to rest a hand on his knee. “These legs look like they’re hurting,” She began, “But you can still walk. Do you think they’re strong enough to support you if you gave me a piggyback ride? After all, if I’m not actually about, General Vantas can’t have your head, now can he?”

Jake’s eyebrows rose up at her suggestion, and his mouth quirked in a smile. “Now Jane, don’t you ever doubt my strength! A gentleman can do anything his lady should require!”

He sprang up only to kneel before her and offer his back, and with great care Jane situated herself upon him. In no time at all Jake had risen, his arms looped around her legs and a grand grin on his face. They laughed as they left the room, a childlike glee in their hearts that had not been allotted to them in years.

It died when they reached the top of the stairs. Jake looked at the steps, concentrating on his footing, but Jane had eyes only for the throne room below, and her heart felt as if it had sunk down into it faster than she descended. It was a mess from the duel, and some parts did not look quite right, as if Calliope’s tantrum had permanently warped patches of the wall, but that did not matter when the people inside were concerned – and there were so many! Soldiers both gold and violet were in a constant state of coming and going, directed by the tiny bundle of nerves and grey that was General Vantas. Servants mingled about too, but they ignored the echoing shouts of the troll in favor of the calm and chipper call of John, who moved about them like a dot of lapis lazuli. There were a few folks who were laid up in cots, perhaps because this was the largest place to keep them, and Jane could not tell who was who from this height. The further down they went, the more eyes turned up to the staircase, and the affirmations and chatter slowly whipped into fervent, quiet whispers.

The directors of the dance of masses, of course, could not ignore them for long. John was the first to look, and his expression brightened as he broke from the pack, making his way to the stairs. “Jane! You’re okay!”

That caught Karkat’s attention, and soon he too was there, glaring up at the Princess as if it were his job. “And just what do you think you’re doing out of bed?” He asked when Jake stood before him. Jane smiled over her cousin’s shoulder, glancing at him briefly as John circled them.

“It’s nice to see you too, General Vantas. What have I missed?”

“Who cares what you missed? Crocker, you’ve been out cold-”

“What? No way, Karkat!” John pulled his cousin and sister into a tight hug, his grin the widest of them all. Jake tottered on his feet, and Jane clung to him. “It’s about time she joined the party! We wouldn’t all be together if it weren’t for her.”

Karkat threw his hands into the air. “It’s not a party, you dingus! This is a serious recovery and meeting of two governments who are trying to figure out just what the fuck to do with this festering pile of-”

John pulled Jake and Jane past the rambling General and towards where many of the cots had been set up, the soldiers and servants parting for them with ease. He waved enthusiastically with his free hand, and ignored Karkat’s shout of indignation. “Hey you guys! Guess who’s finally up!”

“Well it _sounds_ like it’s someone important,” Said a voice, much softer than Jane had ever heard it. She looked around.

“Lady Pyrope? Is that you?” Jane asked, and the last of the crowds finally parted to reveal the cots and their occupants.

For the most part, the nobles of Prospit and Derse appeared as if they had been run through the worst of ringers, but they were whole. Frazzled Feferi looked up sleepily from her cot, obviously worn from the excessive use of Life, and Eridan had snuggled close to her, seven fingers in splints and his right fin heavily bandaged. Sollux, shirtless with dressings wound around a shoulder and his torso, held bags of ice to Aradia’s cracked horns. Nepeta sat very close to Equius and handed him tools as he wrestled with something long and silver in his lap, a few more chips in his horns and bandages tight around the crown of his head. He was next to Vriska, energized even with a stump for one arm and a black patch over one eye, her attention affixed to a weary Tavros. Jane could not help but glance down at his lap, where, instead of an empty space where legs should have been, she saw Gamzee, quiet and still as he clung to his friend. Kanaya did her best to stay between her injured peers, perfectly unscathed save for a skittishness to her eyes. Rose was not far, scratched and bruised as she attended to Roxy, whose head had drooped onto her sister’s shoulder and did not seem to be leaving anytime soon. Dave sat off to the side on a cot, knees pulled up to his chest and forehead resting on them, while Jade had curled up on the other end, wrapped in blankets and fast asleep, a drawn and tired look about her.

But Terezi was something else entirely. She sat up straight in a cot, a bright red cloth tied around her eyes, and her head had turned so her ear was towards Jane, her mouth upturned into a crescent moon of razors. “Come closer!” Terezi said. “I’m testing something out. Who’s with you?” She sniffed delicately, her brow wrinkling in concentration as they approached. “Blue raspberry and evergreen…and sea salt! The sea salt is new. Are you sea salt, Jane?”

A chuckle bubbled up in Jane’s throat. “Hoo hoo! What are you on about?” She asked. “And what is it that you have to test? Take that silly blindfold off, you look ridiculous!”

“Now that’s just rude!” Terezi turned to face them, slipping a thumb underneath the cloth and inching it up to reveal one of her eyes, pupiless and without expression, the color of maraschino cherries. Seeing it made the bit of joy in Jane’s heart fade away. “Telling a blind girl to take off her blindfold is like telling a legislacerator not to bring a noose to the court block!”

There was a quiet beat, though the room still buzzed around them. Jake cleared his throat. “Ah, right,” He whispered, turning towards Jane, “The lovely Miss Pyrope…well, from what I heard tell, this blindness is a rather recent development-”

“Are you pawing like a meowbeast about _me_ , Mister Evergreen?” Terezi asked. She cackled, though it was not as gleeful a sound as it could be. “Bring Jane to me this instant! I still don’t know where that salty scent is coming from!”

But Jane did not want to approach. However Terezi had been blinded, it had to have something with the fight against the Cherubs. Wherever she had gone, it had made her the third of Jane’s heralds to lose something, and that was too much to bear. “If you could hold on…there’s still one more person I need to see, and I noticed that he’s missing among you. It’s wonderful to know you’re all okay, it truly is. I feel very much at ease now. But where is Dirk?”

Terezi shook her head immediately. “Don’t ask me, Your Grace! I haven’t seen him!” If possible, her grin grew even wider as she pointed to her eyes. “Get it?”

Oh, Jane had gotten it. It wasn’t really funny. She turned to the others, most some too tired to open their eyes, a handful gazing only into their own despair. “Does anyone know where His Majesty is?” Jane asked, but no one answered. There was a brief moment of panic within her, much like the kind that had struck on the battlefield before Caliborn had appeared. All of that energy she had poured into him, all of the pain he had gone through – the Dirk in her dream that might not have been a dream, and his sincerity and open eyes and…it couldn’t have all been for nothing! It was only when Jake winced that Jane realized she was holding him far too tightly. She loosened her arms and took a deep breath, but it did little to quell her fears. “Please, I just want to see him. The last I saw of Dirk, he was _dead_ , and if that’s the…if that’s the case…don’t keep it from me. I beg of you…!”

There was a pause, the throne room falling silent at her cry, before something moved in the corner of her vision. She turned, half expecting to see Dirk there, but instead all she saw was Dave. He had lifted his head from his knees, spectacles abandoned. His eyes, she found, were a piercing red, and one cheek still sported a square of gauze. “Bro’s fine,” Dave said. His voice was raw, tired from shouting. “He’s breathing. Asked for some time alone today. He’s always someplace up high when he’s getting away from something, usually a tree, so he’s probably in your garden.”

That was all Jane needed. Strength flooded her body as she pulled herself from Jake’s grasp, swatting away his attempts to keep her on his back. Her legs shook when they bore her weight, and her first step sent pain burning up her nerves. The soldiers, the servants, the nobles, all flew into commotion as she made her way towards the long corridor, but no matter what she refused their help and turned down their insistence that she rest. Jane knew it was foolish. But she had to see him for herself.

The crowds did not follow her down the corridor, and she thought that they must have blocked the entryway should the nobles want to try and pull her back. So, slow and unhindered, Jane reached the front door, and with a weak push she managed to open it just enough to slip outside. The rain fell like mist, and the grass held shining, muddy puddles. Jane did her best not to walk near them, lest she find herself ankle deep in something most unpleasant.

Dave’s advice had only one catch – there were many trees on the Palace grounds, even if they were relatively small grounds. Could Jane really check in all these trees for Dirk? Would her body hold out? Was he even in a tree? There had to be a faster way to find him, and Jane knew just the thing. She cleared her throat and took a deep breath, cupping her hands around her mouth. “Dirk?” The trees rustled in the wind, but there was no call to meet hers, and Jane frowned in spite of herself. “Your Majesty? I was told I could find you here. I understand if you might be cross with me, or if you’d prefer to be alone with your thoughts, but if I could just see you once…” Her voice trailed off, and her hands fell to her sides. Jane felt her legs begin to wobble from the strain. “Oh goodness, please don’t let me ramble like this! Do I really offend you so much that you won’t even speak to me-”

Something creaked behind her, and Jane turned. In the distance and on the side of the Palace sat the stables, and just as she caught sight of it, the door swung shut. It was suspect enough for her to feel the need to investigate, and with her jaw set against her pain, she went to it.

The stable door was not nearly as heavy as the palace’s, but it still required effort to open, and the building itself was relatively dim. Each stall along the walls held a horse, some familiar to her in her time here, and some not. Maplehoof, too, was in one of the stalls, and she nickered softly when Jane drew near, straining to press her nose to the Princess’s shoulder. Jane giggled as she pet her, hand slow as it stroked the mare.

“I see my bushes have been treating you well,” Jane said. Another horse whinnied at her voice from the next stall, and she patted Maplehoof before she moved on. Inside this stall lay Swanson – he lay as if a child might lay in bed when sick, a blanket lovingly placed atop him. Jane had never seen a horse on the ground before, and she grabbed his stall’s door. “Swanson! What’s happened to you?”

There was a sudden thump above Jane’s head, and she jumped. There was nothing but ceiling above her, though some dust trickled down from the boards, and then a voice spoke. It was tense and far away, and very familiar.

“That one’s resting. Leave him alone.”

The sound of that voice alone filled Jane with new energy, and she looked about wildly, as if the speaker had hid themselves like a spider in a dark corner. “Dirk? Is that really you?”

There was another thump towards the end of the stables, and Jane looked to see a ladder propped against its back wall. “He was ridden to near exhaustion and whoever did that clearly knows jack shit about horses. They die if they’re too overheated. Props to the boys here though, they took him in and set him up nice.” A note of bitterness flavored his words, and Jane felt her heart seize.

“I’m sorry,” She said, approaching the ladder, “I’m sorry – that’s my fault.” She grabbed a rung and paused, breathing hard through her teeth. “Do you know if he’ll be alright?”

Something shifted above her. “Should be. Honestly? If someone took the time to teach you to ride, I’d have thought you’d know better.”

“I said I was sorry! Twice!” With a grunt Jane pulled herself up, and slowly she began to climb. “I had other things on my mind at the time!”

“Yeah? Like what?”

“Like _you_ , for instance!” The rungs stopped just short of the opening, and Jane grabbed the edge to pull herself up into what appeared to be a loft. It was even dimmer here than below, and most of it filled with clean, sweet smelling hay, in which Dirk lay. He looked like a stable hand, his clothes worn and dirty, and hay had found its way in his hair. He had folded his hands on his stomach and looked to the wall, his spectacles mysteriously absent from his face. Jane frowned. “Could you please help me?”

Orange eyes flickered to Jane briefly – or perhaps they just happened to look in that direction. “You look like you’ve got a handle on it.”

“You are just _awful_.” And she could be awful too, in turn. The runs were just close enough for her to pretend to slip, but Jane knew she did not have the strength to save herself if she had to. If she tried she really would fall, and that would prove nothing. With her strength waning, Jane lay on the floor to catch her breath, her body shaking from exertion. “Oh, nuts,” She mumbled, “Maybe I should’ve listened when I was told to rest…”

When she looked up again, Dirk had leaned forward, knees drawn up and arms folded atop them. He squinted at her. “…Yeah, I was gonna be a sarcastic little shit, but wow. You look awful.”

Jane scoffed. “Is that supposed to be a compliment?!”

“No, you legit look like you’re about to collapse. Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Well I asked for help!” So first he was indifferent, and now – now he had gotten up from his spot in the hay, handling Jane with the gentlest and firmest of touches as he helped her up. It made her heart flutter, yes, but Jane was no fool. His eyes continued to dart away whenever she looked at his face, as if frightened of what he might find. Or, perhaps, frightened of what she might find?

But that was a presumptuous thought.

The hay was not as soft as it appeared, but its scent was all the sweeter when it surrounded her. Dirk’s hands drew away quickly, and he wiped them on his pants, muttering about cold rain and pajamas and no shoes, really, no shoes? “Wait here,” He said, and Dirk darted for the ladder, disappearing from view as quick as a flash. Jane could hear him below, rummaging through something and ignoring the horses that called out to him. They must have liked him, Jane thought, if they all responded to his presence. Dirk returned soon, a thick blanket draped over one shoulder, and he unfurled it as he approached, covering Jane and kneeling down to tuck her in. It was strange, yes, but it was in that moment where it really hit her that Dirk was okay. He was up and about, rational and most certainly himself, and just as he pulled away to let her rest in her woolen cocoon, Jane reached out and grabbed one of his wrists. She wanted to do so much more. Hold him close, or cry, or laugh, but she just didn’t have the strength.

“…Can I help you?” Dirk asked. Jane was sure he was looking pointedly at the space above her head.

“Um…you’ve done an awful lot already,” She said, “I mean…thank you for helping me get comfortable, I appreciate the attention, but I’m much more concerned with you than I am about myself.” She squeezed his wrist gently. “You weren’t with everyone else when I saw them. I thought something terrible had happened.”

The pause before Dirk’s sigh was immeasurably long, and he slipped his wrist from her grasp, plunking down on her right side and leaning into the hay once more. When he was this close, Jane could make out the faintest of stains on his shirt, large and yellowed like a pale shadow of its former glory. “Something terrible almost did happen,” He said. “I mean. As far as I understand it. I’ll be honest, your shoutpole tried to catch me up and I tuned him out for half of his explanation.”

“My shoutpole?”

“Your General.”

“Oh. Well…that’s sort of rude, don’t you think?”

“Yeah, but when I ask why the fuck I wasn’t clued in on the whole evil Cherub plot under my nose, I kind of expect a reason and not fifteen minutes of a guy I’ve just met outlining every single one of my supposed faults, their accuracy nonwithstanding. I think _that’s_ rude.”

Jane sighed. “Then I’ll apologize on his behalf. I don’t think he can help it.”

“Apology accepted,” Dirk said, and he shrugged. “I’m not really mad. Dude’s takin’ good care of my troops and nobody even asked him to do it.”

“I don’t think he can help that, either.” And while Jane would not mind talking of her General or any of her court to Dirk, there were other things that pressed on her mind. “So you know…why I did all that I did. Right?”

He nodded once, solemn and slow. “Yeah. I’ve been shown some pretty wild stuff in the past couple days, but this whole forced reincarnation deal seems legit. I feel like I have to get home as soon as possible and see if I can’t find some cool relics of my own. Leave no stone unturned and all that. Can you imagine what kind of sweet ancestral loot there could be?”

There was more to his feelings than that. There had to be, how could there not? It was all so much bigger than any of them. Jane turned her head away. “And do you remember what, um…what happened to you?”

Dirk’s shoulder’s twitched.

“Yeah.”

“…Did you mean what you said?”

His answer was quick and quiet. “About what?”

 “About me.” She tried to pull the blanket higher on her shoulder, but it wouldn’t budge. “About us.”

“…I’m gonna have to ask you to be a little more specific-”

She whipped around to face him, eyes burning, and they locked onto Dirk’s before he could look away. His were just as bright, just as turbulent, but the emotions in them were nameless and unsure. “Why should I be specific if you remember?!” Jane sat up, ignoring how her body felt so much heavier, and she leaned towards him. Dirk leaned back. “You said we weren’t friends anymore! You said you – you _hated_ me!!!” She paused for breath, blinking back the stiging in her eyes. “I’ve got to know if you still feel that way, if you’re just being polite for the sake of politics…” He would want to know why it was so important to her, of course, but Jane could not explain that care in her heart. Dirk was not the sweet boy from her dreams – he was a living, breathing entity with his own desires, and they would surely wound hers beyond healing. “Please. I just have to know.”

Their breath was all that warmed them in the space, the pitter-patter of strengthening rain their only song. In that moment the world was wide and terrifying in its possibilities for the both of them. Something warm grasped Jane’s left hand, turning over the palm and running a calloused thumb over the shiny new scar it sported. Dirk’s eyes were drawn to it, and his shoulders relaxed in relief.

“…When I was a kid,” He began, “I was dumb. Really dumb. Stick your hand in the cage of a rabid dog kind of dumb. I was willing to take the word of the scariest, meanest being I’d ever met as absolute fact. What he told me to do, I lived my life by. I wisened up of course, figured out that there was a lot more on the line than my ass. But fear stuck with me, and I couldn’t let that show.”

“But why?” Jane asked, “Was it for the benefit of your people? John told me something once…it’s important not to let your people see you scared, or else they begin to panic.”

“It was something like that.” With his head bowed, Jane could see the flutter of his eyelashes when he blinked. They were rather nice for a boy. Pale. Long. “Mostly for my little bro over anyone else, maybe a little machismo too. And that’s what makes this whole feeling thing so hard to explain. I can’t rattle off the things in my heart like a rhyme or a beat no matter how much I try. I’m still figuring myself out. Don’t know how long that’ll take.” His grip on her hand tightened. “I could never bring myself to hate the Princess of Prospit, and whenever I felt that way…I sort of _knew_ it wasn’t me. It was phony, somehow. It was too strong, and I…”

His eyes closed tightly, and Jane had to keep herself from reaching out with her other hand to smooth the deep furrows of his forehead. She bit back her relief. “You what?”

“…I was – weak,” He said, nearly choking on the words. “Even when I knew better, I tried to go to him. I tried to put him in his place for setting you up to die – that’s all he wanted all this time, was for you to die. That only put me exactly where he wanted me. It was Caliborn’s hatred in me, and I couldn’t fight it. I was literally his puppet.”

The way he said that last bit, how a shudder came to his shoulders and his thumb pressed down on her scar…Jane wondered if that had been Dirk’s greatest fear all this time, that someone would control him until the end of his days. It was such a strange thing for a Prince to come to fear.

“I don’t know how to feel about you,” Dirk said at last. “But I don’t hate you. And – fuck, Jane, how could I not be friends with you? After what you did? You stood up for everyone at the risk of your own life, which was clearly enough to inspire people to take your side. You brought me back from _death_. Nobody else even tried to snap me out of it, and you went above and beyond, of course I would want someone like you as my friend. So what if you had secrets? I get it now, and even when I didn’t, you still…”

Dirk trailed off as if for the first time in his life he was at a loss for words, and slowly he released Jane’s hand to settle back into the hay, the tips of his ears burning red. She did too after a moment. Her left hand tingled from his touch, stronger than her healing Life had ever been.

“…Sorry,” He said. “I don’t know. I’m still figuring it out.”

“That’s…that’s fine.” Jane clenched that hand, pressing it to her chest as if it could calm her pounding heart. “Take all the time you need. This…really isn’t the time to be talking about those sorts of things anyway, is it? I’m sorry I brought it up.”

“Nah, it’s cool.” Dirk yawned, covering his mouth with the back of his hand. “Man. I am _beat_ , though. Don’t know why, I’ve been sleeping almost as much as you.” He looked it too, comfortable and well rested in a way that she had never seen. Even the bags under his eyes had lightened considerably.

Jane laughed at that, her mouth quirking up into a grin to show off her funny teeth. “Well, that’s good! You should take that kind of sleep when you can get it!”

“I know. Especially since now everything’s gonna be different.” His head had turned away, but Jane could see the edge of half a smile on Dirk’s face. “We’ve got our work cut out for us – high government officials are dead and their duties are up for grabs. There are gonna be a lot of confused people with a lot of questions.” He paused as a burst of rain swept overhead, roaring in their ears. “I’ve been thinking. This war…it’s not really ours. It was the Cherubs’. It’d be fucking stupid to keep it going when we don’t have a reason to, right?”

Jane’s breath caught in her throat, and a thrill ran through her. They should be free from that now, she realized, though it was surreal to think that she could ever be free. In the known service of one and the unknown subjugation of another, the Cherubim had held so tightly to Jane’s life that she had not imagined a world without them. None of them had. “No, I suppose we don’t.”

“So what’s keeping us from peace? No, more than peace – an alliance. We’ve been so wrapped up in each other that the countries beyond us mean nothing, but without the threat of Gods to keep them away, who’s to say they won’t think of investigating someday? You know, with weapons?” A hand came up to run through his hair. “It’s not a happy thought, but that’s the thing. We’ve gotta think five steps ahead of everyone else, and, aren’t our countries suited to this? They’ve been through the same fucked up merry go round of death and rebirth and really shitty advice, why not support each other?”

This came so easily from Dirk, and it was obvious that this was where he was comfortable. Planning, plotting, pulling the strings of his world that he knew he could pull into the best direction for those he loved. And maybe he was offering that for his own reasons, without a care for her golden kingdom, but after all this time Jane did not think that of him. She didn’t have to suspect him. There was a wiseness to his proposal that she as a leader could not ignore, and an integrity that she as a friend hadn’t missed. Though her eyes began to slip closed and her mind fogged with the desire to sleep, Jane knew she could trust Dirk, that if Prospit held its hand to Derse it would not go unshaken. “I don’t mind. Perhaps, before you leave, we should make it official?”

“What, do you want a parade or something?”

“No…with, with papers or whatever. Talks about rules and borders, maybe trade. I don’t know, Dirk, isn’t there lots more to an alliance?”

“I don’t know. I’ve never made one. Guess we’ll find out.”

They fell into silence after that, and then into sleep, bodies drawn closer in a subconscious search for warmth. They would need the strength for later – for the fussing of their families, the discussions, the plans and the speeches. It would take a week for twenty children to draw up an agreement that they were proud of, and they would part to put it into action. There would be a sense of anticipation in the air, as if so much lay before them, and there would be tears and embraces and promises to keep in touch.

And Jane would not see Dirk again for two years.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's just one more chapter, and I will tell you, the ending of this chapter bit feels like a cop out, but really, I couldn't just stitch them together. Things are too complicated. They need space. Now let me go before I ramble myself into a corner.


	26. Aster

She brought the letters with her in a bundle tied with twine. Each envelope was worn and wrinkled until they had become like soft leather to the touch, and the pages of each letter fell open at the folds, so very fragile. The edges where her fingers held them as she read had worn down, and many of them were speckled with long-dried tearstains from the nights where she would pull them out and her heart would break again and again. Jane would be the first to admit that doing so was inherently masochistic, borne from a very silly selfishness. After all, she was not the only one who received letters from Dirk, or from anyone back in Derse. These two years had been filled with much correspondence. But they were very special letters, for out of all the things they could be, they were personal above all else; there were jokes tucked neatly into discussions of foreign affairs, rambling accounts of the mundane told in the most outrageous of metaphors, and sometimes a thought or two appeared for her to mull over. Every time she read the letters, she found something new to appreciate in them, and she would never dare to leave them behind. She felt as if they were pieces of Dirk himself.

This, of course, would be very concerning to those who loved Jane, so she did her best not to make her pining obvious. On this trip of hers, with only Jake to accompany her, she kept the letters at the bottom of her carpet bag, not daring to retrieve them. Just knowing they were there was comfort enough. That being said, it would be nice to read them soon.

The autumn winds blew colder in the north than she ever remembered, but then again, Jane had not been to Crocker Hall in a long time. It stood before the Princess and the Duke in the driver’s bench of their little caravan – a villa built to weather winters that had only somewhat begun to dilapidate. The lanws were overgrown with blue asters and littered with a decade’s worth of autumn leaves, this years’ layer still brilliant upon the trees around the house. Around them were rolling hills in which they used to scamper and roll, where the sky went on forever above their heads.

Jake wrinkled his nose. “I always thought this place was bigger. Wasn’t it bigger?”

“I don’t think a building can shrink,” Jane said. “We’re the ones who’ve grown, Jake.” He whistled at that, standing up from the bench and shielding his eyes from the sun.

“She’s still a beaut, though! Such a grand old thing, don’t you think?” Jake lept from the wagon and ran towards it. “We should give her the old one-two fix up. A bit of paint and a spit shine and she could be good as new!”

Jane snorted and climbed down after him. Jake had gotten so much taller, and she knew there was no way she could match his stride, but she wanted to try anyway. Gathering her skirt in her hands, Jane began to run. “I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but there’s no way we could make this old home as good as new by the time Roxy arrives. We’ll have to settle for passable and make due.”

“I mean for the future,” He called back. Jake was already at the door, jiggling the handle experimentally. “Can’t you see spending more time up here again? Summers at least, they are positively _beastly_ everywhere else!” There was a click, and the door creaked open, much to Jake’s amazement. He hurried inside, an exclamation surely on the tip of his tongue, but when Jane reached the doorframe, all she saw was a dark room, and she stuck her head inside only to flinch when Jake sneezed something fierce.

“Are you okay?” She called, and something fluttered. A hand pulled back a curtain, letting sunlight spill into the room, its colors muted by a thick coating of dust, and at the curtain stood Jake, sniffling and snuffling as the air around him danced with motes.

“Never better-” Jake began but he sneezed again, the force shaking more dust from the curtain. Jane hurried inside to guide him out by the shoulders.

“Maybe you should clean up a bit outside,” She suggested, “And I’ll get this room ready, at least. We can spend a night or two sleeping on the floor, it shalln’t hurt.”

“But Jane-”

“No buts, buster! Really, by the sound of things you’re going to sneeze yourself to death if you stay inside!” She pointed to the bramble around the house. “Please try to make this look somewhat presentable, okay? I think it might be a good idea to pull the caravan closer, but we can’t if all of this is in the way. Can I count on you to do that?”

Jake’s mouth moved, and he looked from the villa to the front with the kind of bewilderment a dog might have, but finally he sighed, his shoulders slumping. “If you insist,” He said, and trudged off to begin. “But the minute you need a hand-”

“I’ll holler for you, I promise,” Jane said, and she ducked back into the villa. She wanted to close the door to keep Jake from sticking his stuffy nose inside, but if she was going to clean this room, she was going to do it right, and airing it out would be a good start.

They wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for Roxy, Jane thought, foggy memories leading her to where the cleaning supplies had been kept. They were still there, a bit dingy themselves, but it was a relief to know that nothing had changed here. But yes, through wobbling words and misspelled coaxing, Roxy had convinced Jake that perhaps it was a good idea to go up to the old house again, ‘relive sum majyky kiddie memories’ as one letter put it. Of course, they agreed. Roxy hadn’t been quite right when the Cherubs died, and most of what was really going on with her they heard from Rose, who frequented between the two countries the most, acting as an ambassador as well as spending quite a bit of time acquainting herself with Prospit, Kanaya at her side. “It’s not a stretch to say she’s hiding her alcoholism,” Rose confided in Jane once, “But it would be a lie to say that she’s adept at it. It’s like she’s trying to drown herself in bourbon and rum, and she won’t tell anyone why.” Perhaps the week they decided to spend in the villa, just the three of them, would help Roxy shatter the wall that she had built from empty bottles inside of her – but it would have to be habitable first.

In many ways, even after two years of learning her station and taking the mantle of leadership, Jane was still a maid at heart. She found herself waking early and readying herself for the day, often shrugging off assistance from servants unless she was in absolute need of help, like if she was sick. That was why cleaning the entry room of the villa came so easily to her; from dusting the ceiling to sweeping the floors, there was not a trick she had forgotten, and it was nice to see the warm tones instead of green and felt when things were clean. But there was so much to do! Jane went from section to section, emptying a bookshelf here, beating out a rug there, and throwing open every window she came across until their curtains were a heap on the floor and the room was as bright as it had been in her memories. The wallpaper had yellowed and the upholstery of the couches and chairs held a dubious musty smell, but those were not troublesome things, and most certainly not an issue for a weeklong stay. There might have been something to Jake’s suggestion, though – to make a summer home out of this place. It wouldn’t be very convenient for diplomatic business, no, but everyone needed a break sometimes, right? And if everyone did their part, then everyone could use it, royal and noble alike.

Just thinking about all the cleaning and renovations that would mean made Jane’s growing aches worse, and she set that thought aside for another time.

A sense of time had escaped Jane by the time she came to the last piece of the sitting room. It was off to one side in a corner, and the sun’s rays fell in such a way that they began to stretch towards it, making even its dusty cover sparkle. She removed it as carefully as possible and dragged it to rest with the curtains, for Jane remembered what this was. By all outward appearances, it looked to be an ornate table with a matching bench placed in a room for no other purpose than to look nice. After she made sure it was clear of dust, however, Jane opened its top, revealing a row of keys and its stringed innards. On the inside of the cover a scene had been painted in gold leaf and still-vibrant pigments, something she now recognized as the Palace of Prospit. It was a clavichord, and it had held up remarkably well these ten years, for there was not any sort of marring that she could see on the wood, and a gentle plunk of a key or two revealed that it was still tuned well. Never perfectly, but then again, Calliope hadn’t been good at that or at playing.

But Jane had loved to play the clavichord as a little girl. It had come naturally to her, and now that she was wiser she could wonder if, at any point in her past incarnations, she had picked up the skill. It was a silly idea, yes, though she did not see why she couldn’t investigate it. Even now her fingers itched to dance along the keys, smooth and nimble as no one else could be. There hadn’t been a clavichord in the House of Lords in Derse. She might be out of practice, but she wouldn’t know that unless she gave it a go, now would she?

Relief spread through Jane’s body in a tingling wave when she sat down, and she inhaled, fingers positioning themselves above the keys. When she exhaled – that was when the music began. There was something tottering and whimsical about the song that came forth, like a carnival passing through a town, or some silly tune that children sing as they walk home from school, and though here and there she missed a key or hit some notes that did not seem to fit, it still felt good to play. Maybe they could bring the clavichord back with them, when they left. Maybe she could teach someone in the Palace to play, too. John, perhaps. As if she needed an excuse to be with her brother when they had so many state affairs to tend to-

Someone was knocking to the tune of the song. Jane stopped short, and a flush bloomed from her neck to her cheeks; she had forgotten for a moment that there was a world beyond the sunlit room. She turned, ready to usher Jake back outside, but when Jane looked there was no figure in the doorway. If her cousin really was there, he would have lingered. Curious as always, Jane rose from the bench. “Hello?” But no one answered. It would be smarter to stay inside and find something to defend herself with, for an abandoned villa in the middle of the wilderness was bound to attract some sketchy folk, but Jane hurried forward. Even if that was an inkling in her head, she wasn’t afraid of some nutter in her childhood home, for she had known real monsters.

With a hand on the doorframe she leaned out. Her caravan was a ways away, and if there was something else it was obscured by the trees and bushes. There was a rustling beside her, and a hundred somethings brushed her cheek. Jane caught blue in the corner of her eye, and she turned. For the briefest of moments her vision was nothing but blue aster flowers, her nose in a bouquet of suns with rays like the sky. Then they pulled back, and a face revealed itself, and there was wind in the trees but none of it whistled in Jane’s ears as it blew, none of it could compare to the beat of her heart.

Lips parted. A thumb came up and wiped the bridge of her nose on impulse. “Oh. Sorry, got some pollen on you there-”

She reached out and grabbed his wrist, and his eyes flickered behind those ridiculous spectacles, unmarred and dim. His jaw had sharpened with age, though she couldn’t quite explain how she could tell. He’d gotten taller, by an inch at least, and perhaps a tad broader about the shoulders, and the more Jane looked the warmer her chest became. “…Dirk?”

He smiled; not a half smile, not like before, but something small and easy. “That’s my name, Jane, don’t wear it out.”

His words snapped Jane from her stupor, and she pulled his wrist down, pulled him closer, looked at him long and hard with an ever-deepening frown. “How in the – what are you _doing_ here?!” She exclaimed, and she turned around wildly. “I never mentioned – _you_ never mentioned-”

“Whoa, whoa, hold on a second.” Dirk pulled his wrist back. There was a twitch to his face, a struggle not to appear surprised. “This is totally not how a reunion is supposed to go. I was all prepared for you to leap in and hug me.” He tilted his head. “You’re not happy to see me?”

“Of course I’m happy!” How could he ever think she wasn’t? Was it the frown? It was probably the frown. “But consarn it, Dirk, I want some answers! We haven’t heard a thing from each other outside of letters, and now you show up out of the blue?”

“It’s not really out of the blue,” Dirk said, and he pointed behind Jane. She turned, her eyes widening as she spotted a new caravan, just as small as hers and Jake’s. Speaking of her cousin, he had been drawn to it immediately, and chatted amiably with a form that swayed on the driving bench that might have been Roxy. “Like you can really let Ro-lal travel anywhere on her own these days.” When Jane turned back to Dirk, his smile had relaxed, and he bumped his fist to her shoulder. “Or have a party without me. That right there is an offense to our alliance, Jane, I think it breaks the ‘No Rad Bro Left Behind’ Clause. Do you really want to risk screwing the pooch on that one?”

Oh, it had been too long since she’d heard one of Dirk’s tangents and not been subjected to read it. Jane couldn’t help but smile. “Now, now, it’s not a party. We would take care to invite you if it were. But…thank you, I suppose. For making sure she came to us safely. Can I assume you’ll be staying to bring her home?”

“You got it. Man, haven’t lost that edge of yours at all, have you?” He held out the blue asters to her once more, taking care not to shove the bouquet in her face. “By the way, uh. Since I’m technically barging into your house uninvited, I thought I should bring a gift. It’s kind of last-minute.” Jane chuckled at that, taking the flowers gratefully.

“That’s alright. They’re lovely, thank you.” She sniffed them before holding them close. “Would you…like to come inside?”

He shoved his hands into his pants pockets. “Oh hell yeah. Rox built this place up the whole trip. I have been thoroughly convinced that I missed out on the ultimate childhood.” And he followed Jane inside, steps slow as she parted from him to find a vase. That old love thrummed in her anew, like the strings in a clavichord that was a little out of tune, but Jane had lived two years pretending that there was no reverberation, and was confident that she could hide it. “You ever think about stuff like that though?”

“Like what?” Jane asked. She went to the bookcase, briefly remembering a white, fluted vase among the knickknacks.

“Like if things had been different.” Dirk had wandered by the pile of curtains, toeing the dusty fabric with mild interest. “If we’d met earlier. Like, what if I went with Roxy when she first jumped through the Void to get here? What if the four of us grew up together?”

Fingers brushed porcelain, and Jane plucked the little vase from the shelf, just managing to put the bouquet in its mouth. Water would have to come later. “I imagine we would be quite the motley crew,” Jane said, and she went to the clavichord and placed the vase on a corner. She could have put it on a table, but it was only here that the light slanted just right, casting a gold sheen on all it fell upon. “But it’s also very unlikely that we would be as we are now.”

Footsteps approached. “And what’s that, exactly?”

Jane turned. Dirk wasn’t right behind her, but he was close enough for her heart to flutter. “Why, free of course.”

It took her a moment to realize that he had stilled, and though she could not see his eyes she could feel them upon her, a gentle sort of gaze that lingered as if it had fallen there by chance. How his eyes could be a force she did not know. “Is something wrong?” Jane asked.

Dirk shook himself, just slightly. “Hm? Nah, no, I spaced out for a second. It’s been a long trip.” He drew closer and stopped in front of the clavichord, brushing the keys with the tips of his fingers. “That and the sun caught on this something fierce. Prospit never fails to surprise me when it comes to the beautiful things it’s had hidden away.”

There was a prickly sort of warmth in Jane’s chest, and she eyed him as he experimentally plunked a key. He hadn’t been looking at the clavichord until this moment, of that she was sure, but what did he need to cover himself up for? She dared not presume to know why. “Doesn’t Derse have things like this?” She asked. He nodded.

“Oh, of course. No doubt this is probably Derse made, you can tell by how the wood’s been carved.” He pointed to the painting on the inside of the lid. “But paintings in Derse don’t really look like this.” Dirk leaned forward, using his other hand to lean on the bench as he examined the piece, and Jane sat down to get a closer look herself. “I guess it doesn’t matter who made it, though. Just that it was made well so it could be played well.”

Now that was something Jane could suppose was flattery, as Dirklike in its delivery as anything, and she couldn’t help but feel like he was avoiding something. His words and movements were sure, but it was what he spoke of that rubbed her wrong. Jane leaned closer. “Dirk…surely you didn’t come all this way to compliment me. I want you to be frank with me about _why_ you’ve come to visit _now_.”

Dirk sighed. He took off his spectacles and hung them from the collar of his shirt, and if Jane had not known him before, she would have never thought his eyes could be dark or tired, for now they were bright and alert. “You really don’t want to go back and forth for a little longer?” He asked, “Were you not having fun?”

“I was having fun,” Jane said, and resisted the urge to roll her eyes. “But think about how I feel for a moment. We haven’t seen hide nor hair of each other in over two years, and it’s not like I never extended the opportunity for you to visit!” Her hands scrunched up, catching fistfuls of her skirt. “Prospit and Derse are supposed to be on good terms now, but whenever there’s an event at hand, the only person who comes is Rose – not that it’s not lovely to see Rose,” She added, “And not that I wouldn’t love to see everyone else again! But I…”

And this was where it was hard, where something selfish balanced on the tip of her tongue. A ruler couldn’t really be selfish, Princess or otherwise. They couldn’t afford that kind of longing, not when they had people to care for who needed things that were far more important. But in that moment Jane was weak, and it was better to be so here than in her past or future, but she did not know that.

“I’ve missed you,” Jane said, and she hung her head.

The bench creaked softly. Then it groaned, and Dirk’s upper arm brushed her shoulder. His hand came to rest between them.

“…I’ve missed you, too.”

“Then why did you never visit?”

“I wasn’t ready.”

“What could you possibly have to be ready for?” Jane asked, and her head came up, eyes meeting Dirk’s; the sun’s light made them all the more fiery, all the more strong. Her breath hitched.

“Dunno if you’d believe me if I told you,” He said, and for a moment Jane thought the world was white and blue and empty save for them. Her hands relaxed, though her grip had left deep wrinkles on her skirt.

“Oh…gosh, I don’t know,” she said despite herself, “I think I’d be willing to believe most anything at this point.”

He quirked an eyebrow then, and took a deep breath, the kind that pulls a body up and then lets it drop when it’s exhaled. “I…felt like I had to be ready,” Dirk said slowly, “Before I could see you at all.” His eyes slid closed, as if the only way he could speak his mind was if he did not look at her. “It’s dumb. I had it in my head that I had to figure out how I felt about you after…you know, everything happened. And if I didn’t know, then it wasn’t right to come when you called.”

Something dropped inside of Jane, it was either the bottom of her stomach or her pounding heart, but she could not discern which. She remembered that day in the hay loft of her stables. She remembered many days, particularly when it rained, returning to listen to the pitter patter just above her head. “So…you know, now?”

“Yeah. Just now.” Dirk shook his head. “Deciding to come was more like an impulse. I was fed up with dicking around about it and thought, fuck it, I miss her, I’m going. Might’ve pissed off a few people when I didn’t mention that I was bailing for a while, but hey, they have their issues and I have mine-”

“Dirk, _please_ ,” Jane said, and one of her hands came to rest on his in a gesture of comfort, “Don’t do this again. Just tell me what you’re feeling-”

“But that’s the problem!” His hand curled into a fist under hers. “I don’t think I’ve ever felt so many things in one day before, and it’s worse that I know exactly what they are and exactly where they come from.” Dirk paused to heave another breath, eyes flickering open. He looked so young, and Jane’s hand curled tighter around his. “I’m…I’m fucking _terrified_ , Jane, but I know it’s only going to get worse if I don’t spit it out.” He ran his free hand through his hair. “Fuck me, I’m not ready at all. I shouldn’t have done this.”

Jane looked at him in bewilderment. He made no sense, this Prince, and his distress was less cute and more concerning. “If saying it’s the problem,” She tried, “Why not express how you feel some other way? Write it down!”

“Oh hell no, I don’t trust writing it either,” Dirk said, and he laughed without smiling. “But I could definitely express it another way. Just – just hold still, okay? And close your eyes. If you’re looking at me, I don’t think I can do it.”

After a quick glance and a flickering doubt, close them she did. “Um, okay, sure. Whatever helps you feel better-”

It was quick and soft, but something pressed against Jane’s lips, and her eyes popped open immediately as a thrill shook her to her very core. At first she couldn’t tell what was in front of her, and then the something on her lips _moved_ , pulling away to reveal pinkening cheeks and eyes that searched for a reaction. Jane felt hot from head to toe, and she pressed her hands to her face, bowing her head, shoulders shaking.

“Oh, _shit_ -” Hands came to rest on her arms, then they pulled back, as if they thought better of it. “Jane, I’m sorry, I am so fucking sorry-” He was babbling again, and Jane tried so very hard to keep her breaths even and calm, but even then they came in little puffs, and when his hands finally took her shoulders she looked up at him. Her eyes shined, polished stones in a red face.

“No – no, don’t apologize,” She said, “It felt – it was lovely!” But there was no way it could be for real, she had to know – “But why? You can’t…you don’t…”

“Why ‘can’t’? Why ‘don’t’?” There had been panic in his expression, and now it melted back into something that was too hard to be indifference or calm, but by gum did it try. Jane could barely breathe.

“I thought – _Jake_ ,” She said, and he shook his head vehemently.

“I thought so too, for the longest time,” He admitted. “But Jake…I never really knew him, did I? I creeped on him, yeah, and there’s definitely something there when I look at him, but that probably never would’ve happened. Or, maybe it would’ve, but knowing me I’d probably cajole him into it. Make him feel obligated. And if things had kept on as they were, maybe I would’ve done that and found out about you, and it would’ve been nothing but a bad end for everybody. But that didn’t happen.” A hand came to tip her chin up, a thumb pressed just below her lip. “And you were the only one who cared to know me. To save me, and everyone else-”

Jane’s heart sunk, and she shook her head, trying to pry herself from Dirk’s grasp. “You don’t owe me for that, I don’t deserve-”

“-It’s not about owing and it’s certainly not a matter of who deserves what,” Dirk said; his words were flame and fury and passion in a way that Jane had never heard. “It’s about knowing every day that passes hurts you because I’m the only Goddamn thing you’ve held yourself back from all this time, and it’s about wanting to kiss you the moment I came back to life because you put my fucking soul back together and didn’t ask for a thing in return, Jane, anyone else would’ve demanded a _kingdom_ for something like that!” And now he shook, for he had abandoned all attempts to keep himself in check, alone with her. That was what struck Jane the most, and perhaps that was what helped make everything fall into place when he said, “I _admire_ you, Jane, and I’m pretty sure that’s why I love you.”

The room had grown dim. Jake and Roxy would surely join them soon. Jane knew this, and yet it did not matter. Her hands had fallen into her lap, and everything ached and shook to such a point that all she wanted was to be held and to breathe, to let the feeling pass, but at the same time she clutched it close, unsure of what to make of it. What was it you did when someone loved you back?

Well, Jane thought, she wouldn’t know unless she gave it a go, now would she?

“Dirk,” She said, “Could I…ask you to do something for me?”

His grip loosened, and the passion in his voice faded, as if he expected rejection. “Yeah. Whatever you want.”

She swallowed hard. “Don’t move. And…close your eyes.”

When she looked at him, his eyes had closed, and his mouth had curled into that easy smile. It did not seem quite right on his face, not like his smirk, but in time it could grow on him. Goodness knows he needed happiness. “Yes ma’am.”

Outside, there was a world that lay quiet, a day that few would think significant, but in that moment Jane caught Dirk’s lips with hers before he said another word, and though there was no magic spell that broke, no rolling wave of pearly pink that fell upon the lands of Prospit and Derse, from then on all was different.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> JESUS FUCKING CHRIST
> 
> I don't know what to say. I never thought I'd get to the end of this fic, to be honest, I thought it would languish with all the other chaptered pieces I've ever tried to write, but here I am, at the very end of Of Royal Forge - and I am indebted to every one of you who has read it all, whether you followed from my start posting on Tumblr or if you've happened upon this years after the final curtain has fallen on Homestuck. This has been an absolute labor of love for me and it has made my 2013 to tell this story - to get so much feedback and to make so many people happy. This story changed so much from when I first thought of it, and I believe that every change was made for the better.
> 
> So, thank you. THANK YOU. Thank you, and stay tuned. Forgestuck shall continue. There will be at least one small installment before the year is out, and then writing will begin in 2014 for the next great adventure! <3

**Author's Note:**

> Woo hoo! Of Royal Forge has officially gone live on AO3! Many thanks to the lovely sunflowerwonder on Tumblr for the invitation. I can only hope to prove worthy of it!


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